Some months after the trial, the house in which Dinah King served was broken into and robbed. Although the plunder was mostly of a kind not easily hidden or carried away, no trace of it was got, and the thieves were never heard of. After a decent interval Dinah discovered that the work of that house was too heavy for her, and gave notice to leave. When she did go she left the town, and Smeaton disappeared with her. Had she gone alone, perhaps no suspicion would have been roused, but his reputation was already tainted, and the result was another intimation to us to look after the pair, as it was rumoured that they had gone to Edinburgh. The very day on which this message arrived a young lady appeared at the Office asking for me, and giving her name as Miss Aimers. As she appeared weak and faint, she was allowed to wait my arrival. When I saw her face my first thought was—“How young and how sweet to have death written on her face!” Yes, death was written there—in the pale, sunken cheeks and waxy lips; in the deep lustrous eyes, and in the gasping and panting for breath which necessitated every sentence she uttered being broken in two. A word or two introduced her, and then I distinctly recalled the former case with Smeaton, and a thrill of pity ran through me as I looked on that wistful face and eager pair of eyes, and listened to her story. “Every one is prejudiced against him but me,” she said with strange calmness. “Look at me. I am dying. I know it, and yet I am calm and fearless. I could even be happy were it not for him, and the thought of him being lost to me through all eternity. I could not exist in heaven sundered from him. It would not be heaven to me. Oh, sir! you have seen much misery and much wickedness, but you know that a woman is not always blind even when she loves with all her soul. He is not so bad; but he is easily influenced and led away. If he is taken and put in prison, through that fearful woman, will you remember that? And if I should not be allowed to see him, or if I am taken away before then, will you give him a message from me?” I bowed, for I could not speak. “Tell him I have never lost faith in the goodness of his heart, that I shall love him for ever, and that heaven will never be heaven to me without him beside me. Will you tell him to think of that—sometimes—when he is alone; and of the sweet, happy hours we spent together when we were but boy and girl, full of innocent glee and love, before he was contaminated and led away. Oh, if God would only grant me a little time longer on earth—a little time—just enough to see poor Will led back to the right road and safe for heaven, I could lay my head and say—‘Take me, Lord Jesus, take me home!’” “You may be quite sure that time will be granted you for all that God needs you to do on earth,” I softly returned. “He will not take you till your work is done.”