CHAPTER XII.
Nearly three weeks passed--short flashing weeks, crowded with agitations, inward or outward, for all the persons of this story.
After the inquiry before the magistrates--conducted, as she passionately thought, with the most marked animus on the part of the bench and police towards the prisoners--had resulted in the committal for trial of Hurd and his five companions, Marcella wrote Aldous Raeburn a letter which hurt him sorely.
"Don't come over to see me for a little while," it ran.

"My mind is all given over to feelings which must seem to you--which, I know, do seem to you--unreasonable and unjust.

But they are my life, and when they are criticised, or even treated coldly, I cannot bear it.

When you are not there to argue with, I can believe, most sincerely, that you have a right to see this matter as you do, and that it is monstrous of me to expect you to yield to me entirely in a thing that concerns your sense of public duty.

But don't come now--not before the trial.