Slowly and deliberately Hester Dethridge walked up to the spot where the young girl knelt with Anne's head on her bosom, and looked at the two without a trace of human emotion in her stern and stony face.
"Don't you see what's happened ?" cried Blanche.

"Are you alive or dead?
Oh, Hester, I can't bring her to! Look at her! look at her!" Hester Dethridge looked at her, and shook her head.

Looked again, thought for a while and wrote on her slate.

Held out the slate over Anne's body, and showed what she had written: "Who has done it ?" "You stupid creature!" said Blanche.

"Nobody has done it." The eyes of Hester Dethridge steadily read the worn white face, telling its own tale of sorrow mutely on Blanche's breast.