"Except the words of the man that was hung, Miss."
"Poor wretched criminal! Do not let us talk or dwell on such scenes. I will go and see Mary, if you will show me the way."
"Indeed I will, Miss, and I'm sure it will do her good. She's in her own room."
And, guided by the other, Amy went.
Mrs. Hopkins sat by the side of the bed on which Mary lay, worrying and fretting herself to death, as her fellow-servant had said, and refusing to be comforted or calmed.
"Ever ready to do any one an act of kindness, Miss Neville," said Mrs. Hopkins, as she rose on Amy's entrance. "This is sad work."
"Yes; it is an anxious time for all of us, but it is surely not wise to give way to imaginary evils, which after all may only exist in our own brains and foolish fancies."
"No one knows," sobbed Mary, "how I love my father."
"We all believe it, Mary. Do you know that your mistress's husband is also gone with the rest?"
"No one has threatened his life, like they have my father's."