cated, and committed to the provincial jail, about fifty miles
from London, where the crime had been perpetrated, to take her trial
for--life or death.

CHAPTER XL.

The day at length is come on which Agnes shall have a sight of her
beloved William! She who has watched for hours near his door, to procure
a glimpse of him going out, or returning home; who has walked miles to
see his chariot pass: she now will behold him, and he will see her by
command of the laws of their country. Those laws, which will deal with
rigour towards her, are in this one instance still indulgent.

The time of the assizes, at the county town in which she is imprisoned,
is arrived--the prisoners are demanded at the shire-hall--the jail doors
are opened--they go in sad procession--the trumpet sounds--it speaks the
arrival of the judge--and that judge is William!

The day previous to her trial, Agnes had read, in the printed calendar of
the prisoners, his name as the learned justice before whom she was to
appear. For a moment she forgot her perilous state in the excess of joy
which the still unconquerable love she bore to him permitted her to taste
even on the brink of the grave! After-reflection made her check those
worldly transports, as unfit for the present solemn occasion. But alas!
to her, earth and William were so closely united that, till she forsook
the one, she could never cease to think, without the contending passions
of hope, of fear, of joy, of love, of shame, and of despair, on the
other.

Now fear took place of her first immoderate joy--she feared that,
although much changed in person since he had seen her, and her real name
now added to many an _alias_--yet she feared that same well-known glance
of the eye, turn of the action, or accent of speech, might recall her to
his remembrance; and at that idea shame overcame all her other
sensations--for still she retained pride, in respect to _his_ opinion, to
wish him not to know Agnes was that wretch she felt she was! Once a ray
of hope beamed on her, "that if he knew her, he recognised her, he might
possibly befriend her cause;" and life bestowed through William's
friendship seemed a precious object! But again, that rigorous honour she
had often heard him boast, that firmness to his word, of which she had
fatal experience, taught her to know, he would not for any unproper
compassion, any unmanly weakness, forfeit his oath of impartial justice.

In meditations such a