When Ellinor awoke the clear light of dawn was fully in the room.
She could not remember where she was;for so many mornings she had wakened up in strange places that it took her several minutes before she could make out the geographical whereabouts of the heavy blue moreen curtains,the print of the lord-lieutenant of the county on the wall,and all the handsome ponderous mahogany furniture that stuffed up the room.As soon as full memory came into her mind,she started up;nor did she go to bed again,although she saw by her watch on the dressing-table that it was not yet six o'clock.She dressed herself with the dainty completeness so habitual to her that it had become an unconscious habit,and then--the instinct was irrepressible--she put on her bonnet and shawl,and went down,past the servant on her knees cleaning the doorstep,out into the fresh open air;and so she found her way down the High Street to Hellingford Castle,the building in which the courts of assize were held--the prison in which Dixon lay condemned to die.She almost knew she could not see him;yet it seemed like some amends to her conscience for having slept through so many hours of the night if she made the attempt.She went up to the porter's lodge,and asked the little girl sweeping out the place if she might see Abraham Dixon.
The child stared at her,and ran into the house,bringing out her father,a great burly man,who had not yet donned either coat or waistcoat,and who,consequently,felt the morning air as rather nipping.To him Ellinor repeated her question.
"Him as is to be hung come Saturday se'nnight?Why,ma'am,I've nought to do with it.You may go to the governor's house and try;but,if you'll excuse me,you'll have your walk for your pains.Them in the condemned cells is never seen by nobody without the sheriff's order.You may go up to the governor's house and welcome;but they'll only tell you the same.Yon's the governor's house."Ellinor fully believed the man,and yet she went on to the house indicated,as if she still hoped that in her case there might be some exception to the rule,which she now remembered to have heard of before,in days when such a possible desire as to see a condemned prisoner was treated by her as a wish that some people might have,did have--people as far removed from her circle of circumstances as the inhabitants of the moon.Of course she met with the same reply,a little more abruptly given,as if every man was from his birth bound to know such an obvious regulation.
She went out past the porter,now fully clothed.He was sorry for her disappointment,but could not help saying,with a slight tone of exultation:"Well,you see I was right,ma'am!"She walked as nearly round the castle as ever she could,looking up at the few high-barred windows she could see,and wondering in what part of the building Dixon was confined.Then she went into the adjoining churchyard,and sitting down upon a tombstone,she gazed idly at the view spread below her--a view which was considered as the lion of the place,to be shown to all strangers by the inhabitants of Hellingford.Ellinor did not see it,however;she only saw the blackness of that fatal night,the hurried work--the lanterns glancing to and fro.She only heard the hard breathing of those who are engaged upon unwonted labour;the few hoarse muttered words;the swaying of the branches to and fro.All at once the church clock above her struck eight,and then pealed out for distant labourers to cease their work for a time.Such was the old custom of the place.
Ellinor rose up,and made her way back to Mr.Johnson's house in High Street.The room felt close and confined in which she awaited her interview with Mr.Johnson,who had sent down an apology for having overslept himself,and at last made his appearance in a hurried half-awakened state,in consequence of his late hospitality of the night before.
"I am so sorry I gave you all so much trouble last night,"said Ellinor,apologetically."I was overtired,and much shocked by the news I heard.""No trouble,no trouble,I am sure.Neither Mrs.Johnson nor I felt it in the least a trouble.Many ladies I know feel such things very trying,though there are others that can stand a judge's putting on the black cap better than most men.I'm sure I saw some as composed as could be under Judge Corbet's speech.""But about Dixon?He must not die,Mr.Johnson.""Well,I don't know that he will,"said Mr.Johnson,in something of the tone of voice he would have used in soothing a child."Judge Corbet said something about the possibility of a pardon.The jury did not recommend him to mercy:you see,his looks went so much against him,and all the evidence was so strong,and no defence,so to speak,for he would not furnish any information on which we could base defence.But the judge did give some hope,to my mind,though there are others that think differently.""I tell you,Mr.Johnson,he must not die,and he shall not.To whom must I go?""Whew!Have you got additional evidence?"with a sudden sharp glance of professional inquiry.
"Never mind,"Ellinor answered."I beg your pardon ...only tell me into whose hands the power of life and death has passed.""Into the Home Secretary's--Sir Phillip Homes;but you cannot get access to him on such an errand.It is the judge who tried the case that must urge a reprieve--Judge Corbet.""Judge Corbet?""Yes;and he was rather inclined to take a merciful view of the whole case.I saw it in his charge.He'll be the person for you to see.