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at Hayslope the same evening I heard you preach； and recognised
him in court to…day； ill as he looked。”
“Ah； sir； can you tell me anything about him？ Can you tell me
where he lodges？ For my poor uncle was too much weighed down
with trouble to remember。”
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“Close by here。 I inquired all about him of Mr。 Irwine。 He
lodges over a tinman’s shop； in the street on the right hand as you
entered the prison。 There is an old school…master with him。 Now；
good…bye： I wish you success。”
“Farewell； sir。 I am grateful to you。”
As Dinah crossed the prison court with the turnkey； the solemn
evening light seemed to make the walls higher than they were by
day； and the sweet pale face in the cap was more than ever like a
white flower on this background of gloom。 The turnkey looked
askance at her all the while； but never spoke。 He somehow felt
that the sound of his own rude voice would be grating just then。
He struck a light as they entered the dark corridor leading to the
condemned cell； and then said in his most civil tone； “It’ll be pretty
nigh dark in the cell a’ready； but I can stop with my light a bit； if
you like。”
“Nay； friend； thank you；” said Dinah。 “I wish to go in alone。”
“As you like；” said the jailer； turning the harsh key in the lock
and opening the door wide enough to admit Dinah。 A jet of light
from his lantern fell on the opposite corner of the cell； where Hetty
was sitting on her straw pallet with her face buried in her knees。 It
seemed as if she were asleep； and yet the grating of the lock would
have been likely to waken her。
The door closed again； and the only light in the cell was that of
the evening sky； through the small high grating—enough to
discern human faces by。 Dinah stood still for a minute； hesitating
to speak because Hetty might be asleep； and looking at the
motionless heap with a yearning heart。 Then she said； softly；
“Hetty！”
There was a slight movement perceptible in Hetty’s frame—a
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start such as might have been produced by a feeble electrical
shock—but she did not look up。 Dinah spoke again； in a tone made
stronger by irrepressible emotion：
“Hetty 。 。 。 it’s Dinah。”
Again there was a slight startled movement through Hetty’s
frame； and without uncovering her face； she raised her head a
little； as if listening。
“Hetty 。 。 。 Dinah is come to you。”
After a moment’s pause； Hetty lifted her head slowly and
timidly from her knees and raised her eyes。 The two pale faces
were looking at each other： one with a wild hard despair in it； the
other full of sad yearning love。 Dinah unconsciously opened her
arms and stretched them out。
“Don’t you know me； Hetty？ Don’t you remember Dinah？ Did
you think I wouldn’t come to you in trouble？”
Hetty kept her eyes fixed on Dinah’s face—at first like an
animal that gazes； and gazes； and keeps aloof。
“I’m come to be with you； Hetty—not to leave you—to stay with
you—to be your sister to the last。”
Slowly； while Dinah was speaking； Hetty rose； took a step
forward； and was clasped in Dinah’s arms。
They stood so a long while； for neither of them felt the impulse
to move apart again。 Hetty； without any distinct thought of it； hung
on this something that was come to clasp her now； while she was
sinking helpless in a dark gulf； and Dinah felt a deep joy in the
first sign that her love was welcomed by the wretched lost one。
The light got fainter as they stood； and when at last they sat down
on the straw pallet together； their faces had become indistinct。
Not a word was spoken。 Dinah waited； hoping for a
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spontaneous word from Hetty； but she sat in the same dull
despair； only clutching the hand that held hers and leaning her
cheek against Dinah’s。 It was the human contact she clung to； but
she was not the less sinking into the dark gulf。
Dinah began to doubt whether Hetty was conscious who it was
that sat beside her。 She thought suffering and fear might have
driven the poor sinner out of her mind。 But it was borne in upon
her； as she afterwards said； that she must not hurry God’s work：
we are overhasty to speak—as if God did not manifest himself by
our silent feeling； and make his love felt through ours。 She did not
know how long they sat in that way； but it got darker and darker；
till there was only a pale patch of light on the opposite wall： all the
rest was darkness。 But she felt the Divine presence more and
more—nay； as if she herself were a part of it； and it was the Divine
pity that was beating in her heart and was willing the rescue of
this helpless one。 At last she was prompted to speak and find out
how far Hetty was conscious of the present。
“Hetty；” she said gently； “do you know who it is that sits by
your side？”
“Yes；” Hetty answered slowly； “it’s Dinah。”
“And do you remember the time when we were at the Hall
Farm together； and that night when I told you to be sure and think
of me as a friend in trouble？”
“Yes；” said Hetty。 Then； after a pause； she added； “But you can
do nothing for me。 You can’t make ’em do anything。 They’ll hang
me o’ Monday—it’s Friday now。”
As Hetty said the last words； she clung closer to Dinah；
shuddering。
“No； Hetty； I can’t save you from that death。 But isn’t the
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suffering less hard when you have somebody with you； that feels
for you—that you can speak to； and say what’s in your heart？ 。 。 。
Yes； Hetty： you lean on me： you are glad to have me with you。”
“You won’t leave me； Dinah？ You’ll keep close to me？”
“No； Hetty； I won’t leave you。 I’ll stay with you to the last 。 。 。
But； Hetty； there is some one else in this cell besides me； some one
close to you。”
Hetty said； in a frightened whisper； “Who？”
“Some one who has been with you through all your hours of sin
and trouble—who has known every thought you have had—has
seen where you went； where you lay down and rose up again； and
all the deeds you have tried to hide in darkness。 And on Monday；
when I can’t follow you—when my arms can’t reach you—when
death has parted us—He who is with us now； and knows all； will
be with you then。 It makes no difference—whether we live or die；
we are in the presence of God。”
“Oh； Dinah； won’t nobody do anything for me？ Will they hang
me for certain？ 。 。 。 I wouldn’t mind if they’d let me live。”
“My poor Hetty； death is very dreadful to you。 I know it’s
dreadful。 But if you had a friend to take care of you after death—in
that other world—some one whose love is greater than mine—who
can do everything？ 。 。 。 If God our Father was your friend； and was
willing to save you from sin and suffering； so as you should neither
know wicked feelings nor pain again？ If you could believe he loved
you and would help you； as you believe I love you and will help
you； it wouldn’t be so hard to die on Monday； would it？”
“But I can’t know anything about it；” Hetty said； with sullen
sadness。
“Because； Hetty； you are shutting up your soul against him； by
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