“I believe you, Anthony, to be an injured man.  Thank God!” she continued, mournfully folding her hands together, “thank God!  I have not loved a murderer!”

“Loved!” repeated the prisoner, whilst the deepest crimson for a moment flushed his face; “is it possible that Juliet Whitmore ever loved me!  Loved me after witnessing that disgraceful scene in the park.  Oh, Juliet! dear generous Juliet! these blessed words would make me too happy were it not for these bonds.”

“I wronged you, Anthony; cruelly wronged you.  My unfortunate misconception of painful facts may have been the means of rivetting those irons upon your limbs.  I cannot forgive myself for not questioning Mary Mathews alone upon the subject.”

“Appearances were strongly against me, Juliet.  I have been the victim of unfortunate circumstances.”  He bent his head down upon his fettered hands, and continued, in a low voice rendered almost inarticulate with emotion:  “But you love me, and this assurance ought to atone for all the dreary past.  Alas! at this moment it comes to rob me of my fortitude; to add a bitterness to death!”

“Oh, that it were in my power to save your life, beloved Anthony!” said Juliet, sinking on her knees beside him, and clasping his fettered hands within her own.  “I have loved you long and tenderly.  I shall see you no more on earth.  If my life could ransom yours, I would give it without a sigh; but will is powerless; our hands are tied; we are indeed the creatures of circumstance.  All that now remains for us is to submit—­to bow with fortitude to the mysterious ways of Providence.  To acknowledge, even in our hearts’ deep agony, that whatever is, is right.”

“Let us pray,” said Anthony solemnly, holding up her hands in his; “pray that God may give us strength to undergo the trial that awaits us.”

“With tears and sobs and struggling sighs, those unhappy young lovers poured out their full hearts to God.  They appealed to his love, his justice, his mercy; they cried to him in their strong agony; and even in that moment of unutterable woe they found peace.

“Go, my beloved,” whispered Anthony, “I can part with you now.  We shall soon meet again.”

“To part no more for ever!” sobbed Juliet, struggling with her tears.  “I have a message for you from one who has already passed the dark valley—­from one who loved you—­poor Clary.”

“I cannot bear it now,” said Anthony.  “I hope soon to hear a more joyful message from her gentle lips.  Farewell, my Juliet—­my soul’s first and only earthly love!  Live for my sake—­live to defend my memory from infamy.  Time will dissipate the clouds that now blacken my name; and the day will come when Juliet Whitmore will not have cause to blush for her unfortunate lover.”

One long and last embrace—­one gush of free and heartfelt tears—­one sad impassioned kiss, and Anthony Hurdlestone was once more alone in the condemned cell, with silence and darkness—­mute emblems of death—­brooding around him.