The hours dragged on. The children slept; some of the women slept also, worn out by their fears. Katrine's cramped arms still held their burden, but Nancy Mannering had turned herself round in her seat, presenting her broad back as a support. "Let yourself go, my dear; lean your weight on me. Nothing like a support to your back. I was at the opera just before I sailed--six shillings' worth of gallery, and never a rail at the back. Leaned back against a young lad's knees, and he wriggled in seventeen fits. Prudery, eh? Or perhaps I was too old. Well! Well!" The voice had its old jaunty tone, but the language in which she spoke was unintelligible. _Opera_! Katrine shrank at the sound. Face to face with death, the trivial happenings of life retreated to an illimitable distance. Was it possible that one had ever cared for such baubles--had counted them among the goods of life! At the stern of the boat a woman was praying aloud, while those around joined in with tears and sobs. Katrine roused herself to listen, and caught fervid confessions of sin and wrong-doing. Her thoughts turned inward; she also ought to pray, to make confession. Drearily she asked herself what she had done, and failed to discover a tangible offence. Honestly she had endeavoured; honestly she had refrained. Looking back over her life she could find no shrinking from duty, no unfair dealing, no violation of a law. She had not "gone astray," she had not been "vile and sinful altogether"; the woman's abasement of self-blame left her untouched. The searchlight of conscience revealed sin indeed, but not of commission. _Lack of level_--that was the flaw--of whole-hearted, unselfish love which gave all and asked for no return; love which could transform the commonest events, and make of duty a joy! Grizel possessed that love; a spring of tenderness and sympathy, welling within her heart. She had found it easy to live with a querulous old woman. "She doesn't worry me: I _love_ her!" Katrine heard again the tone of the deep, rich voice giving the simple explanation. She herself had placed Martin before all created things, but there had been no tenderness in her heart. With opened eyes she looked back on the critical, exacting sentiment which she had called love, and found it unworthy the name. Her arms tightened round the sleeping child. This then was the secret of life. Love--"the fulfilment of the law." If life were spared, it would be the motive spring for which she would strive; given that, the rest would follow. The women at her side were imploring for forgiveness, and comfort in death. Katrine prayed for life. "More life: fuller life! _Fill my mean heart_--!"