When she awoke a new idea flashed upon her with all the
brightness of the morning. Mr. Thornton had learnt her falsehood
before he went to the coroner; that suggested the thought, that
he had possibly been influenced so to do with a view of sparing
her the repetition of her denial. But she pushed this notion on
one side with the sick wilfulness of a child. If it were so, she
felt no gratitude to him, as it only showed her how keenly he
must have seen that she was disgraced already, before he took
such unwonted pains to spare her any further trial of
truthfulness, which had already failed so signally. She would
have gone through the whole--she would have perjured herself to
save Frederick, rather--far rather--than Mr. Thornton should have
had the knowledge that prompted him to interfere to save her.
What ill-fate brought him in contact with the Inspector? What
made him be the very magistrate sent for to receive Leonards'
deposition? What had Leonards said? How much of it was
intelligible to Mr. Thornton, who might already, for aught she
knew, be aware of the old accusation against Frederick, through
their mutual friend, Mr. Bell? If so, he had striven to save the
son, who came in defiance of the law to attend his mother's
death-bed. And under this idea she could feel grateful--not yet,
if ever she should, if his interference had been prompted by
contempt. Oh! had any one such just cause to feel contempt for
her? Mr. Thornton, above all people, on whom she had looked down
from her imaginary heights till now! She suddenly found herself
at his feet, and was strangely distressed at her fall. She shrank
from following out the premises to their conclusion, and so
acknowledging to herself how much she valued his respect and good
opinion. Whenever this idea presented itself to her at the end of
a long avenue of thoughts, she turned away from following that
path--she would not believe in it.
It was later than she fancied, for in the agitation of the
previous night, she had forgotten to wind up her watch; and Mr.
Hale had given especial orders that she was not to be disturbed
by the usual awakening. By and by the door opened cautiously, and
Dixon put her head in. Perceiving that Margaret was awake, she
came forwards with a letter.
'Here's something to do you good, miss. A letter from Master
Frederick.' 'Thank you, Dixon. How late it is!' She spoke very languidly, and suffered Dixon to lay it on the
counterpane before her, without putting out a hand to lake it.