She went gently up to him, put her little hand in his, and walked in silence by his side.
Sir Christopher could not tell her to leave him, and so she went on with that sad procession to Mr.Bates's cottage in the Mosslands, and sat there in silence, waiting and watching to know if Anthony were really dead.

She had not yet missed the dagger from her pocket; she had not yet even thought of it.

At the sight of Anthony lying dead, her nature had rebounded from its new bias of resentment and hatred to the old sweet habit of love.

The earliest and the longest has still the mastery over us; and the only past that linked itself with those glazed unconscious eyes, was the past when they beamed on her with tenderness.

She forgot the interval of wrong and jealousy and hatred--all his cruelty, and all her thoughts of revenge--as the exile forgets the stormy passage that lay between home and happiness and the dreary land in which he finds himself desolate..