"Oh, Dinah, won't nobody do anything for me? _Will_ they hang me for certain? ... I wouldn't mind if they'd let me live ... help me.... I can't feel anything like you ... my heart is hard." Dinah held the clinging hand, and all her soul went forth in her voice: "... Come, mighty Saviour! let the dead hear Thy voice; let the eyes of the blind be opened: let her see that God encompasses her; let her tremble at nothing but the sin that cuts her off from Him. Melt the hard heart; unseal the closed lips: make her cry with her whole soul, 'Father, I have sinned.'" "Dinah," Hetty sobbed out, throwing her arms round Dinah's neck, "I will speak ... I will tell ... I won't hide it any more. I did do it, Dinah ... I buried in the wood ... the little baby ... and it cried ... I heard it cry ... ever such a way off ... all night ... and I went back because it cried." She paused and then spoke hurriedly in a louder pleading tone. "But I thought perhaps it wouldn't die--there might somebody find it. I didn't kill it--I didn't kill it myself. I put it down there and covered it up, and when I came back it was gone.... I don't know what I felt until I found that the baby was gone. And when I put it there, I thought I should like somebody to find it and save it from dying, but when I saw it was gone, I was struck like a stone, with fear. I never thought o' stirring, I felt so weak. I knew I couldn't run away, and everybody as saw me 'ud know about the baby. My heart went like stone; I couldn't wish or try for anything; it seemed like as if I should stay there for ever, and nothing 'ud ever change. But they came and took me away." Hetty was silent, but she shuddered again, as if there was still something behind: and Dinah waited, for her heart was so full that tears must come before words. At last Hetty burst out with a sob. "Dinah, do you think God will take away that crying and the place in the wood, now I've told everything?" "Let us pray, poor sinner: let us fall on our knees again, and pray to the God of all mercy." I have not done justice to this scene, because I have had to cut it, and it is on her massiveness that George Eliot depends--she has no nicety of style. The scene is sincere, solid, pathetic, and penetrated with Christianity. The god whom Dinah summons is a living force to the authoress also: he is not brought in to work up the reader's feelings; he is the natural accompaniment of human error and suffering. Now contrast with it the following scene from _The Brothers Karamazov_ (Mitya is being accused of the murder of his father, of which he is indeed spiritually though not technically guilty). They proceeded to a final revision of the protocol. Mitya got up, moved from his chair to the corner by the curtain, lay down on a large chest covered by a rug, and instantly fell asleep. He had a strange dream, utterly out of keeping with the place and the time.