The heir, at this eventful period, was in England, whither the body was transmitted, and deposited in the Vavasour mausoleum.
Meanwhile Tom remained for some weeks in the county jail, in a condition far from enviable. All attempts to induce a confession of guilt were abortive; he persisted in his declaration of innocence; but, as parties accused are not usually in the habit of confessing their crimes, these protestations were not considered worth much. Indeed, the only person he could convince was his poor mother, who gave implicit confidence to his assertions.
A change, and one for the better, had come over the accused in prison. How bitterly did he regret his former idle moments—how deeply did he lament the burden he had been on his mother! Many a vow did he make, that, if he could get quit of this charge, he would eschew his former course of life, and be all a fond parent could ask. About the tenth day before the approaching sittings, Tom was visited by a gentleman, who proffered his assistance as his adviser. He had heard, he said, of the case, and was anxious, on his mother's account, to afford his aid; but he required a full and ample statement, without any concealment. Tom answered, he had nothing to conceal; and he recapitulated everything he had formerly stated.
The stranger listened attentively, and, after his client had concluded, shook his head. "Tom, you may be innocent—there is the impress of truth in what you state, and I can hardly doubt you; but still the evidence against you is so strong, that, if you go to trial, I am fearful—very fearful of the result."
Tom's face, which had brightened as the stranger commenced, became clouded ere the remarks were finished, and when they terminated he burst into tears. "Oh, sir!" he sobbed, "have pity on a poor misguided lad, who never meant evil to any one—who is as innocent of the crime of which he is accused as you are. Save me, sir—oh, save me! if not on my own account, at least on that of my poor mother, who will break her heart if I am condemned!"
"I would willingly save you if I could," was the rejoinder; "but I cannot influence juries—I cannot sway the court."
"And must I die, then? Must I, before my time, go down to my grave dishonoured and disgraced? Oh, sir, if it had pleased Heaven to visit me with a deadly sickness, I would have left the world without one sigh except for my mother! But to be degraded as a felon—to be branded as a murderer—it is too—too much!" He became so agitated that grief choked his utterance.
The stranger, obviously affected, took his hand. "Tom, have you firmness? There is a way, perhaps."
"How?" exclaimed the lad, eagerly.
"This room is only one storey from the ground, and escape is possible."