This relieved her a little: weeping is good, even to such as Alberigo in an ice-pot of hell.

But she was cold to the very marrow, almost too cold to feel it; and, when she rose, could scarcely put one foot before the other.
Not once, for all her misery, did she imagine a return to Thornwick.
Without a thought of whither, she moved on, unaware even that it was in the direction of the town.

The dog, delighted to believe that he had raised up to himself a mistress, followed humbly at her heel: but always when she stopped, as she did every few paces, ran round in front of her, and looked up in her face, as much as to say, "Here I am, mistress! shall I lick again ?" If a dog could create, he would make masters and mistresses.

Gladly would she then have fondled him, but feared the venture; for, it seemed, were she to stoop, she must fall flat on the road, and never rise more.
Slowly the two went on, with motion scarce enough to keep the blood moving in their veins.

Had she not been, for all her late depression, in fine health and strength, Letty could hardly have escaped death from the cold of that night.