“You’ve come to tell me when my dear Nick’s trial comes off,” she said; “I am sure of it, for he has never been out of my thoughts all day. Oh, Mr. Challice, surely they can never have the heart to pronounce him guilty!”
“My dear,” I says very softly, and laying my hand on hers (Lord, how the touch did make me tremble!), “there’s many an innercent man has had to suffer in this world for the wrong-doing of others, and Nick ain’t no exception to the rule. He had a bad friend in Rummles, and he has ruined his life. Be prepared for the worst, my poor gal. The trial came off this morning, and Nick’s got seven years!”
“Seven years!” she repeated slowly. “Not seven years’ transportation?”
“Yes, my dear. I’m sorry to say it, but that’s the truth. He was found guilty and sentenced to seven years’ transportation.”
“Seven years,” she said again in a dazed manner, “seven years, and I am only twenty-one. Oh! what shall I do?—what shall I do?”
She didn’t cry loud, but seemed to be asking the question of herself in right earnest.
“Nan,” I says, emboldened by her despair, “I’ll tell you what to do. Come home to me and I’ll take care of you! Only say the word and let me put up the banns. ‘Twouldn’t be a grand home, my dear, but it would be a clean and comfortable one, and Nick’s home, too, as soon as he’s out of his time. And I’ll love you, my dear gal, faithful and true!
“I’ve loved you ever since I knowed you, Nan, and if love can make them seven years go quicker, why, they’ll have all the help in my power, and I can’t say no more.”
“You, Mr. Challice?” she says in surprise. “You? Oh, no! Oh, no!”
“And why not, Nan? My wages is pretty good and rising regularly. And you shall never do a stroke of work again if I can help it. And I’ll be a friend to your brother, my dear! I did my best to stand his friend to-day, but the evidence was too strong for me.”