CHAPTER XI.
Dollis Hill revisited.
About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small back-parlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,--"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers--slumbers peacefully.

The opiate has done its duty.

Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,--deathlike and deep.
Its very calmness was frightful.

Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight--very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct.

This lifeless appearance was heightened by the extreme sharpness of her features--especially the nose and chin,--and by the emaciation of her limbs, which was painfully distinct through her drapery.