" "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. Wood, in equal trepidation. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven.
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