rs to call for fruitless help.

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Happily, she bethought herself of the consequences of what she

did, in time to check herself and go back. It was dreadful to go in

at the door again; but she did go in, and even went near it, to get

the bonnet and other things that she must wear. These she put on,

out on the staircase, first shutting and locking the door and taking

away the key. She then sat down on the stairs a few moments to

breathe and to cry, and then got up and hurried away.

By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could

hardly have gone along the streets without being stopped. By good

fortune, too, she was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not to

show disfigurement like any other woman. She needed both

advantages, for the marks of gripping fingers were deep in her

face, and her hair was torn, and her dress (hastily composed with

unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a hundred ways.

In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river.

Arriving at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and

waiting there, she thought, what if the key were already taken in a

net, and if it were identified, what if the door were opened and the

remains discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to

prison, and charged with murder! In the midst of these fluttering