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?