Chapter 35 - Page 2

in weight and long carried; and she had been very meek and
patient, till all at once her faith had given way, and she had
groped in vain for help! There was a pitiful contraction of
suffering upon her beautiful brows, although there was no other
sign of consciousness remaining. The mouth--a little while ago,
so sullenly projected in defiance--was relaxed and livid.

'E par che de la sua labbia si mova Uno spirto soave e pien

d'amore, Chi va dicendo a l'anima: sospira!'

The first symptom of returning life was a quivering about the
lips--a little mute soundless attempt at speech; but the eyes
were still closed; and the quivering sank into stillness. Then,
feebly leaning on her arms for an instant to steady herself,
Margaret gathered herself up, and rose. Her comb had fallen out
of her hair; and with an intuitive desire to efface the traces of
weakness, and bring herself into order again, she sought for it,
although from time to time, in the course of the search, she had
to sit down and recover strength. Her head drooped forwards--her
hands meekly laid one upon the other--she tried to recall the
force of her temptation, by endeavouring to remember the details
which had thrown her into such deadly fright; but she could not.
She only understood two facts--that Frederick had been in danger
of being pursued and detected in London, as not only guilty of
manslaughter, but as the more unpardonable leader of the mutiny,
and that she had lied to save him. There was one comfort; her lie
had saved him, if only by gaining some additional time. If the
inspector came again to-morrow, after she had received the letter
she longed for to assure her of her brother's safety, she would
brave shame, and stand in her bitter penance--she, the lofty
Margaret--acknowledging before a crowded justice-room, if need
were, that she had been as 'a dog, and done this thing.' But if
he came before she heard from Frederick; if he returned, as he
had half threatened, in a few hours, why! she would tell that lie
again; though how the words would come out, after all this
terrible pause for reflection and self-reproach, without
betraying her falsehood, she did not know, she could not tell.
But her repetition of it would gain time--time for Frederick.

She was roused by Dixon's entrance into the room; she had just
been letting out Mr. Thornton.

He had hardly gone ten steps in the street, before a passing
omnibus stopped close by him, and a man got down, and came up to
him, touching his hat as he did so. It was the police-inspector.

Mr. Thornton had obtained for him his first situation in the
police, and had heard from time to time of the progress of his
protege, but they had not often met, and at first