"
A Roman would have devoted his daughter to death from different feelings
and motives, but not upon a more heroic principle of duty.
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
To man, in this his trial state,
The privilege is given,
When tost by tides of human fate,
To anchor fast on heaven.
Watts's _Hymns._
It was with a firm step that Deans sought his daughter's apartment,
determined to leave her to the light of her own conscience in the dubious
point of casuistry in which he supposed her to be placed.
The little room had been the sleeping apartment of both sisters, and
there still stood there a small occasional bed which had been made for
Effie's accommodation, when, complaining of illness, she had declined to
share, as in happier times, her sister's pillow. The eyes of Deans rested
involuntarily, on entering the room, upon this little couch, with its
dark-green coarse curtains, and the ideas connected with it rose so thick
upon his soul as almost to incapacitate him from opening his errand to
his daughter. Her occupation broke the ice. He found her gazing on a slip
of paper, which contained a citation to her to appear as a witness upon
her sister's trial in behalf of the accused.
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