office, she was more than sanguine: she was certain of the
result.

"You don't know how you have comforted me," she said, in her frank,
warm-hearted way, when we parted for the night. "All the newspapers
will copy it, and we shall hear of John Jago before the week is out."
She turned to go, and came back again to me. "I will never forgive
Silas for writing that confession!" she whispered in my ear. "If he
ever lives under the same roof with Ambrose again, I--well, I believe I
wouldn't marry Ambrose if he did! There!"

She left me. Through the wakeful hours of the night my mind dwelt on
her last words. That she should contemplate, under any circumstances,
even the bare possibility of not marrying Ambrose, was, I am ashamed to
say, a direct encouragement to certain hopes which I had already begun
to form in secret. The next day's mail brought me a letter on business.
My clerk wrote to inquire if there was any chance of my returning to
England in time to appear in court at the opening of next law term. I
answered, without hesitation, "It is still impossible for me to fix the
date of my return." Naomi was in the room while I was writing. How
would she have answered, I wonder, if I had told her the truth, and
said, "You are responsible for this letter?"

CHAPTER X. THE SHERIFF AND THE GOVERNOR.

THE question of time was now a serious question at Morwick Farm. In six
weeks the court for the trial of criminal cases was to be opened at
Narrabee.

During this interval no new event of any importance occurred.

Many idle letters reached us relating to the advertisement for John
Jago; but no positive information was received. Not the slightest trace
of the lost man turned up; not the shadow of a doubt was cast on the
assertion of the prosecution, that his body had been destroyed in the
kiln. Silas Meadowcroft held firmly to the horrible confession that he
had made. His brother Ambrose, with equal resolution, asserted his
innocence, and reiterated the statement which he had already advanced.
At regular periods I accompanied Naomi to visit him in the prison. As
the day appointed for the opening of the court approached, he seemed to
falter a little in his resolution; his manner became restless; and he
grew irritably suspicious about the merest trifles. This change did not
necessarily imply the consciousness of guilt: it might merely have
indicated natural nervous agitation as the time for the trial drew
near. Naomi noticed th