The first symptom of returning life was a quivering about the lips--a little mute soundless attempt at speech; but the eyes were still closed; and the quivering sank into stillness. Then, feebly leaning on her arms for an instant to steady herself, Margaret gathered herself up, and rose. Her comb had fallen out of her hair; and with an intuitive desire to efface the traces of weakness, and bring herself into order again, she sought for it, although from time to time, in the course of the search, she had to sit down and recover strength. Her head drooped forwards--her hands meekly laid one upon the other--she tried to recall the force of her temptation, by endeavouring to remember the details which had thrown her into such deadly fright; but she could not. She only understood two facts--that Frederick had been in danger of being pursued and detected in London, as not only guilty of manslaughter, but as the more unpardonable leader of the mutiny, and that she had lied to save him. There was one comfort; her lie had saved him, if only by gaining some additional time. If the inspector came again to-morrow, after she had received the letter she longed for to assure her of her brother's safety, she would brave shame, and stand in her bitter penance--she the lofty Margaret--acknowledging before a crowded justice-room, if need were, that she had been as "a dog, and done this thing." But if he came before she heard from Frederick; if he returned, as he had half threatened, in a few hours, why! she would tell that lie again; though how the words would come out, after all this terrible pause for reflection and self-reproach, without betraying her falsehood, she did not know, she could not tell. But her repetition of it would gain time--time for Frederick.

The first symptom of returning life was a quivering about the lips - a mute attempt at speech, that sank into stillness. Then, feebly leaning on her arms to steady herself, Margaret gathered herself up, and rose. Her comb had fallen out of her hair; and with an intuitive desire to remove the traces of weakness, she sought for it, although in the course of the search, she had to sit down and recover strength. She tried to remember the details which had thrown her into such deadly fright; but she could not. She only understood two facts - that Frederick had been in danger of being pursued and detected in London, and that she had lied to save him.
There was one comfort; her lie had gained him time. If the inspector came again tomorrow, after she had received a letter assuring her of her brother's safety, she would brave shame, and acknowledge before a crowded courtroom that she had withheld the truth. But if the inspector came before she heard from Frederick, why! she would tell that lie again; though how the words would come out without betraying her falsehood, she did not know. But it would gain time for Frederick.
