"Edith Holgrave," said she, "gave me some medicine to—"
"Edith Holgrave!" interrupted Calverley, with a quickness of voice and eagerness of look that told how greatly the name interested him.
"Yes, Edith Holgrave told me to give ten drops out of that little bottle," (pointing to the empty phial,) "and I—gave—but, oh! Master Calverley, I forgot—"
"You gave it all?" said Calverley, impatiently.
"Yes."
"And you will swear it was a draught that Edith Holgrave gave you that has killed the child?" said Calverley, with a brightening countenance.
"Oh, yes," replied Mary; "but, indeed—"
"Nonsense!" interrupted Calverley. "Hear me, or you will be hanged! If you hope to save your life, Mary Byles, you must swear that you gave it according to Edith's directions—breathe not a syllable of the drops!"
Mary looked with a fearful wildness at Calverley, as she comprehended his meaning; but Byles said quickly,
"What! do you mean her to hang old Edith?"