England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"Miss Wilkins," he began--and there was something peculiar in his tone
which startled Ellinor--"I am sure you will not scruple to apply to me if
in any possible way I can help you in this sad trouble of yours?"
"No indeed I won't!" said Ellinor, gratefully, and putting out her hand
as a token. He took it, and held it; she went on, a little more hastily
than before: "You know you were so good as to say you would go at once
and see Miss Monro, and tell her all you know, and that I will write to
her as soon as I can."
"May I not ask for one line?" he continued, still holding her hand.
"Certainly: so kind a friend as you shall hear all I can tell; that is,
all I am at liberty to tell."
"A friend! Yes, I am a friend; and I will not urge any other claim just
now. Perhaps--"
Ellinor could not affect to misunderstand him. His manner implied even
more than his words.
"No!" she said, eagerly. "We are friends. That is it. I think we shall
always be friends, though I will tell you now--something--this much--it
is a sad secret. God help me! I am as guilty as poor Dixon, if, indeed,
he is guilty--but he is innocent--indeed he is!"
"If he is no more guilty than you, I am sure he is! Let me be more than
your friend, Ellinor--let me know all, and help you all that I can, with
the right of an affianced husband."
"No, no!" said she, frightened both at what she had revealed, and his
eager, warm, imploring manner. "That can never be. You do not know the
disgrace that may be hanging over me."
"If that is all," said he, "I take my risk--if that is all--if you only
fear that I may shrink from sharing any peril you may be exposed to."
"It is not peril--it is shame and obloquy--" she murmured.
"Well! shame and obloquy. Perhaps, if I knew all I could shield you from
it."
"Don't, pray, speak any more about it now; if you do, I must say 'No.'"
She did not perceive the implied encouragement in these words; but he
did, and they sufficed to make him patient.
The time was up, and he could only render her his last services as
"courier," and none other but the necessary words at starting passed
between them.
But he went away from the station with a cheerful heart; while she,
sitting alone and quiet, and at last approaching near to the place where
so much was to be decided, felt sadder and sadder, heavier and heavier.
All the intelligence she had gained since she had seen the _Galignani_ in
Paris, had been from the waiter at the Great Western Hotel, who, after
returning from a vain search for an unoccupied _Times_, had volunteered
the information that there was an unusual demand for the paper because of
Hellingford Assizes, and the trial there for murder that was going on.
There was no electric telegraph in those days; at every station Ellinor
put her head out, and enquired if the murder trial at Hellingford was
ended. Some porters told her one thing, some another, in their hurry;
she felt that she could not rely on them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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