do so. Dixon had learnt part of the truth-but only part. Margaret wouldnot tell any human being of what she had said, and she did not revealthe fatal termination to Leonards\" fall from the platform. So Dixoncuriosity combined with her allegiance to urge Margaret to go to rest,which her appearance, as she lay on the sofa, showed but too clearlythat she required. She did not speak except when spoken to; she tried tosmile back in reply to her father\"s anxious looks and words of tenderenquiry; but, instead of a smile, the wan lips resolved themselves into asigh. He was so miserably uneasy that, at last, she consented to go intoher own room, and prepare for going to bed. She was indeed inclined togive up the idea that the inspector would call again that night, as it wasalready past nine o\"clock.
She stood by her father, holding on to the back of his chair.
\"You will go to bed soon, papa, won\"t you? Don\"t sit up alone!\"
What his answer was she did not hear; the words were lost in the farsmaller point of sound that magnified itself to her fears, and filled herbrain. There was a low ring at the door-bell.
She kissed her father and glided down stairs, with a rapidity of motionof which no one would have thought her capable, who had seen her theminute before. She put aside Dixon.
\"Don\"t come; I will open the door. I know it is him--I can--I mustmanage it all myself.\"
\"As you please, miss!\" said Dixon testily; but in a moment afterwards,she added, \"But you\"re not fit for it. You are more dead than alive.\"
\"Am I?\" said Margaret, turning round and showing her eyes all aglowwith strange fire, her cheeks flushed, though her lips were baked andlivid still.
She opened the door to the Inspector, and preceded him into the study.
She placed the candle on the table, and snuffed it carefully, before sheturned round and faced him.
\"You are late!\" said she. \"Well?\" She held her breath for the answer.
\"I\"m sorry to have given any unnecessary trouble, ma\"am; for, after all,they\"ve given up all thoughts of holding an inquest. I have had otherwork to do and other people to see, or I should have been here beforenow.\"
\"Then it is ended,\" said Margaret. \"There is to be no further enquiry.\"
\"I believe I\"ve got Mr. Thornton\"s note about me,\" said the Inspector,fumbling in his pocket-book.
\"Mr. Thornton\"s!\" said Margaret.
\"Yes! he\"s a magistrate--ah! here it is.\" She could not see to read it--no,not although she was close to the candle. The words swam before her.
But she held it in her hand, and looked at it as if she were intentlystudying it.
\"I\"m sure, ma\"am, it\"s a great weight off my mind; for the evidence wasso uncertain, you see, that the man had received any blow at all,--and ifany question of identity came in, it so complicated the case, as I toldMr. Thornton--\"
\"Mr. Thornton!\" said Margaret, again.
\"I met him this morning, just as he was coming out of this house, and, ashe\"s an old friend of mine, besides being the magistrate who sawLeonards last night, I made bold to tell him of my difficulty.\"
Margaret sighed deeply. She did not want to hear any more; she wasafraid alike of what she had heard, and of what she might hear. Shewished that the man would go. She forced herself to speak.
\"Thank you for calling. It is very late. I dare say it is past ten o\"clock.
Oh! here is the note!\" she continued, suddenly interpreting the meaningof the hand held out to receive it. He was putting it up, when she said, \"Ithink it is a cramped, dazzling sort of writing. I could not read it; willyou just read it to me?\"
He read it aloud to her.
\"Thank you. You told Mr. Thornton that I was not there?\"
\"Oh, of course, ma\"am. I\"m sorry now that I acted upon information,which seems to have been so erroneous. At first the young man was sopositive; and now he says that he doubted all along, and hopes that hismistake won\"t have occasioned you such annoyance as to lose their shopyour custom. Good night, ma\"am.\"
\"Good night.\" She rang the bell for Dixon to show him out. As Dixonreturned up the passage Margaret passed her swiftly.
\"It is all right!\" said she, without looking at Dixon; and before thewoman could follow her with further questions she had sped up-stairs,and entered her bed-chamber, and bolted her door.
She threw herself, dressed as she was, upon her bed. She was too muchexhausted to think. Half an hour or more elapsed before the crampednature of her position, and the chilliness, supervening upon greatfatigue, had the power to rouse her numbed faculties. Then she began torecall, to combine, to wonder. The first idea that presented itself to herwas, that all this sickening alarm on Frederick\"s behalf was over; thatthe strain was past. The next was a wish to remember every word of theInspector\"s which related to Mr. Thornton. When had he seen him?
What had he said? What had Mr. Thornton done? What were the exactwords of his note? And until she could recollect, even to the placing oromitting an article, the very expressions which he had used in the note,her mind refused to go on with its progress. But the next conviction shecame to was clear enough;--Mr. Thornton had seen her close toOutwood station on the fatal Thursday night, and had been told of herdenial that she was there. She stood as a liar in his eyes. She was a liar.
But she had no thought of penitence before God; nothing but chaos andnight surrounded the one lurid fact that, in Mr. Thornton\"s eyes, she wasdegraded. She cared not to think, even to herself, of how much ofexcuse she might plead. That had nothing to do with Mr. Thornton; shenever dreamed that he, or any one else, could find cause for suspicion inwhat was so natural as her accompanying her brother; but what wasreally false and wrong was known to him, and he had a right to judgeher. \"Oh, Frederick! Frederick!\" she cried, \"what have I not sacrificed foryou!\" Even when she fell asleep her thoughts were compelled to travelthe same circle, only with exaggerated and monstrous circumstances ofpain.