hundred thousand guineas to my darling,” said Miss Pross.

Madame Defarge made at the door. Miss Pross, on the instinct

of the moment, seized her round the waist in both her arms, and

held her tight. It was in vain for Madame Defarge to struggle and

to strike; Miss Pross, with the vigorous tenacity of love, always so

much stronger than hate, clasped her tight, and even lifted her

from the floor in the struggle that they had. The two hands of

Madame Defarge buffeted and tore her face; but, Miss Pross, with

her head down, held her round the waist, and clung to her with

more than the hold of a drowning woman.

Soon, Madame Defarge’s hands ceased to strike, and felt at her

encircled waist. “It is under my arm,” said Miss Pross, in

smothered tones, “you shall not draw it. I am stronger than you, I

bless Heaven for it. I’ll hold you till one or other of us faints or

dies!”

Madame Defarge’s hands were at her bosom. Miss Pross looked

up, saw what it was, struck at it, struck out a flash and a crash, and

stood aloneblinded with smoke.

All this was in a second. As the smoke cleared. leaving an awful

stillness, it passed out on the air, like the soul of the furious

woman whose body lay lifeless on the ground. In the first fright

and horror of her situation, Miss Pross passed the body as far from

it as she could, and ran down the stairs to call for fruitless help.

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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

thoughts, the escort appeared, took her in, and took her away.

“Is there any noise in the streets?” she asked him.

“The usual noises,” Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised

by the question and by her aspect.

“I don’t hear you,” said Miss Pross. “What do you say?”

It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss