To-morrow is the day appointed for the trial at the Old Bailey.
Before sunset this evening I went to look at Mary's grave.

The turf has grown so green since I saw it last, and the flowers are springing up so prettily.

A bird was perched dressing his feathers on the low white headstone that bears the inscription of her name and age.

I did not go near enough to disturb the little creature.

He looked innocent and pretty on the grave, as Mary herself was in her lifetime.