he ate his heart in dismay as he counted the days, the hours, the minutes, and then calculated the amount of misery that was in store for him.  And there was so much more for him to think of than his own condition.  He knew of course that he was innocent of the crime imputed to him;—­but would it not be the same to his wife and child as though he had been in truth guilty?  Would not his boy to his dying day be regarded as illegitimate?  And though he had been wrongly condemned, had not all this come in truth from his own fault?  And when that eternity of misery within the prison walls should have come to an end,—­if he could live through it so as to see the end of it,—­what would then be his fate, and what his duty?  He had perfect trust in his wife; but who could say what two years might do,—­two years during which she would be subjected to the pressure of all her friends?  Where should he find her when the months had passed?  And if she were no longer at Folking, would she come back to him?  He was sure, nearly sure, that he could not claim her as his wife.  And were she still minded to share her future lot with him, in what way should he treat her?  If that horrid woman was his wife in the eye of the law,—­and he feared though hardly knew that it would be so,—­then could not that other one, who was to him as a part of his own soul, be his wife also?  What would become of his child, who, as far as he could see, would not be his child at all in the eye of the law?  Even while he was still a free man, still uncondemned, an effort had been made to rob him of his wife and boy,—­an effort which for a time had seemed to be successful.  How would Hester be able to withstand such attempts when they would be justified by a legal decision that she was not his wife,—­and could not become his wife while that other woman was alive?  Such thoughts as these did not tend to relieve the weariness of his days.

The only person from the outside world whom he was allowed to see during the three months of his incarceration was Mr. Seely, and with him he had two interviews.  From the time of the verdict Mr. Seely was still engaged in making those enquiries as to the evidence of which we have heard so much, and though he was altogether unsympathetic and incredulous, still he did his duty.  He had told his client that these enquiries were being made, and had, on his second visit, informed him of the arrival of Dick Shand.  But he had never spoken with hope, and had almost ridiculed Bagwax with his postage-stamps and postmarks.  When Caldigate first heard that Dick was in England,—­for a minute or two,—­he allowed himself to be full of hope.  But the attorney had dashed his hopes.  What was Shand’s evidence against the testimony of four witnesses who had borne the fire of cross-examination?  Their character was not very good, but Dick’s was, if possible, worse.  Mr. Seely did not think that Dick’s word would go for much.  He could simply say that, as far as he knew, there had been no marriage.  And in this Mr. Seely had been right, for Dick’s word had not gone for much.  Then, when Crinkett and Mrs. Smith had been arrested, no tidings had reached him of that further event.  It had been thought best that nothing as to that should be communicated to him till the result should be known.