'If I were acquitted,' she went on. 'Indeed, I believe I should be acquitted--but the case would not be ended by that acquittal. Suppose, my Lord--I put a case--it need not be mine'--she plucked at the lace of her handkerchief as if deeply agitated--'I say, it need not be my own case--I suppose a case. Such a charge is brought against a person--perhaps innocent. She is acquitted--But the charge remains. It will then be brought against the real criminal. Out of revenge every thief in St. Giles's would crowd in to give evidence. That person's fate would be certain. She would be--she would be--your Lordship will spare me the word.' Again she covered her eyes. Then she lifted her head again and went on. 'I know that the--person--is guilty--She deserves nothing short of what the law provides. Yet reflect, my Lord. Born among rogues: brought up among rogues: without education and moral principles, or honour, or religion, can one wonder if such a person turns to crime? And can you wonder, my Lord'--again she sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands--'can you wonder if the daughter should resolve to save the mother's life, by taking--upon herself--the guilt--the confession--the consequences of the crime?' She was silent save for a sob that convulsed her frame. His Lordship heard with humid eyes. When she had finished he rose with tears that streamed down his face. For a while he could not speak. Then he turned to Mr. Dewberry. 'Sir,' he said, 'tell me--tell me--what she means.' 'She means, my Lord, to plead Guilty and to take the consequences. By so doing she will save her mother--yes, my Lord, her mother--even at the sacrifice of her own life.' 'Oh!' he cried, 'it must not be! Great Heavens! It must not be. Jenny--Jenny--thou art, I swear, an angel.' 'No, my Lord, no angel.' 'Yes, an angel! Hear me, Jenny. I will stand by thee. The world shall know--the world that loves thee--By ---- the world shall know what a treasure it possesses in the incomparable Jenny Wilmot. As an actress thou art without an equal. As a child--as a daughter--history records no greater heroism. Thou shalt be written down in history beside the woman who saved her father from starvation and the woman who saved her husband from the traitor's block. I can endure it no longer, Jenny. To-morrow when my spirits are less agitated, I will come again.' He stooped and kissed her bowed head and so left us. A common or vulgar actress when the man for whom she had been playing had gone, would have laughed or in some way betrayed herself. Not so Jenny. She waited a reasonable time after his Lordship's departure and then lifted her head, placed her handkerchief--still dry--to her eyes and stood up. 'Mr. Dewberry,' she said, 'do you agree with me in the line I have resolved to take?' 'Madame, I do,' he replied emphatically. 'And you, Will?'