'You want your breakfast, I'm sure. I will bring it you in a

minute. Master has got the tray all ready, I know.' Margaret did not reply; she let her go; she felt that she must be

alone before she could open that letter. She opened it at last.

The first thing that caught her eye was the date two days earlier

than she received it. He had then written when he had promised,

and their alarm might have been spared. But she would read the

letter and see. It was hasty enough, but perfectly satisfactory.

He had seen Henry Lennox, who knew enough of the case to shake

his head over it, in the first instance, and tell him he had done

a very daring thing in returning to England, with such an

accusation, backed by such powerful influence, hanging over him.

But when they had come to talk it over, Mr. Lennox had

acknowledged that there might be some chance of his acquittal, if

he could but prove his statements by credible witnesses--that in

such case it might be worth while to stand his trial, otherwise

it would be a great risk. He would examine--he would take every

pains. 'It struck me' said Frederick, 'that your introduction,

little sister of mine, went a long way. Is it so? He made many

inquiries, I can assure you. He seemed a sharp, intelligent

fellow, and in good practice too, to judge from the signs of

business and the number of clerks about him. But these may be

only lawyer's dodges. I have just caught a packet on the point of

sailing--I am off in five minutes. I may have to come back to

England again on this business, so keep my visit secret. I shall

send my father some rare old sherry, such as you cannot buy in

England,--(such stuff as I've got in the bottle before me)! He

needs something of the kind--my dear love to him--God bless him.

I'm sure--here's my cab. P.S.--What an escape that was! Take care

you don't breathe of my having been--not even to the Shaws.' Margaret turned to the envelope; it was marked 'Too late.' The

letter had probably been trusted to some careless waiter, who had

forgotten to post it. Oh! what slight cobwebs of chances stand

between us and Temptation! Frederick had been safe, and out of

England twenty, nay, thirty hours ago; and it was only about

seventeen hours since she had told a falsehood to baffle pursuit,

which even then would have been vain. How faithless she had been!

Where now was her proud motto, 'Fais ce que dois, advienne que

pourra?' If she had but dared to bravely tell the truth as

regarded herself, defying them to find out what she refused to

tell concerning another, how light of heart she would now have

felt! Not humbled before God, as having failed in trust towards

Him; not degraded and abased in Mr. Thornton's sight. She caught

herself up at this with a miserable tremor; here was she classing

his low opinion of her alongside with the displeasure of God. How

was it that he haunted her imagination so persistently? What

could it be? Why did she care for what he thought, in spite of

all her pride in spite of herself? She believed that she could

have borne the sense of Almighty displeasure, because He knew

all, and could read her penitence, and hear her cries for help

in time to come. But Mr. Thornton--why did she tremble, and hide

her face in the pillow? What strong feeling had overtaken her at

last?




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