Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. "Confusion!" ejaculated Jonathan: "can he have escaped? No. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. "We have cured his obstinacy, you perceive," he added to Marvel. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him.
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