him, but literally nothing could be done. Mr. Strafford left him,
without anything new to tell the anxious women at the Cottage.

But the second time there was an evident alteration in the physical
condition of the prisoner. He scarcely ever moved from his bed; and when
he was with difficulty persuaded to do so, he tottered like a very old
and feeble man. Even to breathe the air which he still perpetually asked
for, he would hardly walk to the window; and there were such signs of
exhaustion and utter weakness, that it seemed very doubtful whether,
before the time of the Assizes, he would not be beyond the reach of
human justice. Mr. Strafford went back to the Cottage with a new page in
her sorrowful life to tell to Mrs. Costello. To say that she heard with
great grief of the probable nearness of that widowhood which, for years
past, would have been a welcome release, would be to say an absurdity;
but, nevertheless, it is true that a deep and tender feeling of pity,
which was, indeed, akin to love, seemed to sweep over and obliterate all
the bitterness which belonged to her thoughts of her husband. She wished
at once to avow their relationship; and it was only Mr. Strafford's
decided opinion that to do so would be hurtful to Lucia and useless to
Christian, which withheld her. Clearly the one thing which he, unused to
any restraint, needed and longed for, was liberty; and even that, if it
were attainable, he seemed already too weak to enjoy. His ideas and
powers of recollection were growing still weaker with every week of
imprisonment, but nothing could be done--nothing but wait, with dreary
patience, for the time of the trial.




CHAPTER XI.