Lionel was overjoyed to learn that Edith was so near him, and could not find in his heart to blame her for coming, however injudicious such a step might have seemed to many people. But even he, as yet, had conceived but a very vague idea of the infinite capabilities of a character such as hers. On the morrow they met, and it was a meeting that made even Hoskyns, case-hardened though he was, remember for a moment that, many, many years ago, he himself had been young. The moment the door was opened Edith sprang to Lionel’s arms, utterly indifferent to the fact that Mrs. Garside and the lawyer were looking on from the background. “My life! my love! my husband!” she murmured, between her tears. “At last, at last!—my own, never to be lost to me again. And this is your home—this miserable cell! It shall be my home too. If they will not let me stay with you, my heart, at least, will be with you day and night—always.” “Now I feel that you love me,” was all that Lionel could say for the moment. “I cling to you because you are in trouble,” said Edith. “My place is by your side. I have a right to be here, and nothing shall keep me away. To-morrow, or next day at the latest, Lionel, you must make me your wife.” “What, marry you here, Edith! In this place, and while I am a prisoner charged with wilful murder!” “Yes; in this place, and while you are a prisoner charged with wilful murder.” “My darling child, what are you thinking of?” in mild protest from Mrs. Garside. “Aunt, I know perfectly well what I am thinking of. I have been Lionel’s promised wife for some time. I am now going to be his wife in reality. I am only a weak woman, I know; I cannot really help him; I can only love him and watch over him, and do my best to lighten the dark hours of his life in prison.” “But suppose the worst comes to the worst,” said Lionel, very gravely, “and such a result is by no means improbable.” Edith shuddered. “You only supply me with one argument the more,” she answered. “The deeper your trouble—the greater your peril—the closer must I cling to you. It is hard to see you here—hard to know of what you are accused—but you will break my heart altogether, Lionel, if you drive me from your side.” Gently and gravely, Lionel argued with her, but to no purpose. It is possible that his arguments were not very powerful ones; that they were not very logically enforced. Who could have resisted her loving, passionate plea? Not Lionel, whose heart, despite his outward show of resistance, went out half-way to meet hers, as Edith’s own instinct too surely told her.