Olivia by Charles Garvice

The days wore on. To Olivia they appeared sometimes to drag with leaden weight, at others to fly by on wings. No news had reached her of Bertie, no tidings of Bartley Bradstone, or Seth the gypsy, and Liz Lee. It seemed as if, indeed, Fate were fighting against her, and that the mystery which surrounded the murder in the woods grew deeper and darker as the hour of the trial drew near.

And it was very near now. For on the twenty-ninth, Harold Faradeane was to be tried, and it was now the night of the twenty-eighth.