Nor when Susan was named did Fielden's words take the shape of comfort; for he himself was seriously alarmed for her health.

The sound of her low cough rang in his ears, and he rather heightened than removed the picture which haunted Mainwaring,--Susan stricken, dying, broken-hearted! Tortured both in heart and conscience, Mainwaring felt as if he had but one wish left in the world,--to see Susan once more.

What to say, he scarce knew; but for her to depart,--depart perhaps to her grave, believing him coldly indifferent,--for her not to know at least his struggles, and pronounce his pardon, was a thought beyond endurance.
After such an interview both would have new fortitude,--each would unite in encouraging the other in the only step left to honour.

And this desire he urged upon Fielden with all the eloquence of passionate grief as he entreated him to permit and procure one last conference with Susan.

But this, the plain sense and straightforward conscience of the good man long refused.