I think we shall always be friends, though I will tell you now--something--this much--it is a sad secret.

God help me! I am as guilty as poor Dixon, if, indeed, he is guilty--but he is innocent--indeed he is!" "If he is no more guilty than you, I am sure he is! Let me be more than your friend, Ellinor--let me know all, and help you all that I can, with the right of an affianced husband." "No, no!" said she, frightened both at what she had revealed, and his eager, warm, imploring manner.

"That can never be.

You do not know the disgrace that may be hanging over me." "If that is all," said he, "I take my risk--if that is all--if you only fear that I may shrink from sharing any peril you may be exposed to." "It is not peril--it is shame and obloquy--" she murmured.
"Well! shame and obloquy.

Perhaps, if I knew all I could shield you from it." "Don't, pray, speak any more about it now; if you do, I must say 'No.'" She did not perceive the implied encouragement in these words; but he did, and they sufficed to make him patient.
The time was up, and he could only render her his last services as "courier," and none other but the necessary words at starting passed between them.
But he went away from the station with a cheerful heart; while she, sitting alone and quiet, and at last approaching near to the place where so much was to be decided, felt sadder and sadder, heavier and heavier.
All the intelligence she had gained since she had seen the _Galignani_ in Paris, had been from the waiter at the Great Western Hotel, who, after returning from a vain search for an unoccupied _Times_, had volunteered the information that there was an unusual demand for the paper because of Hellingford Assizes, and the trial there for murder that was going on.
There was no electric telegraph in those days; at every station Ellinor put her head out, and enquired if the murder trial at Hellingford was ended.