The cruel light seemed gathering its strength to publish her shame to the universe.

Blameless as she was, she would have gladly accepted death in escape from the misery that every moment grew nearer.

Now and then a faint glimmer of comfort reached her in the thought that at least the escape of Richard, if he had escaped, was thus ensured, and that without any blame to her.
And perhaps mistress Watson would be merciful--only she too had her obligations, and as housekeeper was severely responsible.

And even if she should prove pitiful, there was the locking of the door! It followed so quickly, that some one must have seen her enter, and wittingly snared her, believing most likely that she was not alone in the chamber.
The terrible bolt at length slid back in the lock, gently, yet with tearing sound; mistress Watson entered, stood, stared.

Before her sat Dorothy by the side of the bedstead, in her dressing-gown, her hair about her neck, her face like the moon at sunrise, and her eyelids red and swollen with weeping.