"My doom is certain—if I live to meet it," answered Reginald, who only maintained the composure which he now displayed by the most desperate efforts to subdue his emotions. "The evidence is too damning against me. And yet I imagined that I had adopted such precautions!" he continued, in a musing tone. "I felt so confident that the poor, old woman would appear to have died by her own hand! I sent the footman out of the way, not upon a frivolous cause, but on an errand which would bear scrutiny. I made the housekeeper herself get rid of Katherine. I did all that prudence suggested. But never—never did I anticipate that _another_ would be charged with the crime! And yet, when suspicion attached itself so strongly to that poor innocent girl, what could I do? I had but two alternatives—to allow her to suffer, or to immolate myself by proclaiming her guiltlessness. Oh! Cecilia, you know not—you cannot conceive all that I have suffered since that fatal evening! Often and often was I on the point of going forward and confessing all, in order to save that innocent girl. But I had not the courage! When I gave my testimony, I rendered it as favourable towards her as possible. I laboured hard to encourage the suspicion that the deceased had been her own destroyer. But fate had ordained that all should transpire." He paused, and buried his face in his hands. A sob escaped his breast. "This is childish—this is foolish in the extreme," he suddenly cried. "Time is passing—and you have not yet decided whether you will render me the service I require, upon the consideration of inheriting all my wealth." "I will do what you ask of me," said Cecilia, in a low but decided tone. "And do not attempt to deceive me," continued Reginald; "for if you bring me a harmless substitute for a deadly poison, you will frustrate my design, it is true—but I shall live to revoke the bequest made in your favour." "I will not deceive you, Reginald—if you be indeed determined," said his mistress. "I _am_ determined. We now understand each other: to me the poison—to you the wealth." "Agreed," was the answer. "The day after to-morrow you will return—provided with what I require?" said Reginald. "You may rely upon me." "Then farewell, Cecilia, for the present." The rector offered the lady his hand: Cecilia pressed it with affected fervour, though in reality she almost recoiled from the touch. Profligate as she was, she had no sincere sympathy for a murderer. Nor was she sorry when she once more found herself beyond the terrible walls of Newgate. CHAPTER CLX. THE RECTOR IN NEWGATE. Reginald Tracy awoke early on the morning when Cecilia was to return to him. He had been dreaming of delicious scenes and voluptuous pleasures; and he opened his eyes to the fearful realities of Newgate.