"Doctor," said the girl, and although the death dews were even then upon her forehead and she spoke between sobbing gasps of breath, there was a kind of defiance in her tone. "Doctor, you've been trying for days to wheedle summat out of me—you know you have."
The doctor did not speak.
"While I thought I was going to live," went on the girl, "I would say nowt. Nay, if the king on his throne and all the judges and juries in the land were to try and drag from me what I'm going to say I wouldn't have said it. Ay, but I'm afear'd to die, doctor! Am I going to die?"
"Yes, you're going to die, Emily."
"How long can I live?"
"Perhaps a few hours, perhaps not so long."
For some seconds the girl lay silently. Even yet she seemed to be fighting some great battle.
"Mrs. Cronkshaw was up here a little while ago, and she said as 'ow Paul Stepaside was to be hanged to-morrow morning. Is that true?"
"Yes, that is what I've heard," said the doctor.
"Ay; you've tried to get out of me if I know summat about it," said the girl. "Ay; but you've tried hard, doctor!" and there was almost a triumphant tone in her voice. "But have I said a word? Nay, not a word! While I thought I should live I wouldn't speak for onybody. And you've believed I knowed summat about it."