Adam sat ruminating a little while, and then said, “I wonder if Dinah ‘ud ha’ gone to see her.  But perhaps the Poysers would ha’ been sorely against it, since they won’t come nigh her themselves.  But I think she would, for the Methodists are great folks for going into the prisons; and Seth said he thought she would.  She’d a very tender way with her, Dinah had; I wonder if she could ha’ done any good.  You never saw her, sir, did you?”

“Yes, I did.  I had a conversation with her—­she pleased me a good deal.  And now you mention it, I wish she would come, for it is possible that a gentle mild woman like her might move Hetty to open her heart.  The jail chaplain is rather harsh in his manner.”

“But it’s o’ no use if she doesn’t come,” said Adam sadly.

“If I’d thought of it earlier, I would have taken some measures for finding her out,” said Mr. Irwine, “but it’s too late now, I fear...Well, Adam, I must go now.  Try to get some rest to-night.  God bless you.  I’ll see you early to-morrow morning.”

Chapter XLII

The Morning of the Trial

At one o’clock the next day, Adam was alone in his dull upper room; his watch lay before him on the table, as if he were counting the long minutes.  He had no knowledge of what was likely to be said by the witnesses on the trial, for he had shrunk from all the particulars connected with Hetty’s arrest and accusation.  This brave active man, who would have hastened towards any danger or toil to rescue Hetty from an apprehended wrong or misfortune, felt himself powerless to contemplate irremediable evil and suffering.  The susceptibility which would have been an impelling force where there was any possibility of action became helpless anguish when he was obliged to be passive, or else sought an active outlet in the thought of inflicting justice on Arthur.  Energetic natures, strong for all strenuous deeds, will often rush away from a hopeless sufferer, as if they were hard-hearted.  It is the overmastering sense of pain that drives them.  They shrink by an ungovernable instinct, as they would shrink from laceration.  Adam had brought himself to think of seeing Hetty, if she would consent to see him, because he thought the meeting might possibly be a good to her—­might help to melt away this terrible hardness they told him of.  If she saw he bore her no ill will for what she had done to him, she might open her heart to him.  But this resolution had been an immense effort—­he trembled at the thought of seeing her changed face, as a timid woman trembles at the thought of the surgeon’s knife, and he chose now to bear the long hours of suspense rather than encounter what seemed to him the more intolerable agony of witnessing her trial.