“What is it, my dear child?” exclaimed Sir Thomas, with eager anxiety. “Nothing,” replied Margaret. “Nothing! Then why have you come?” “Because I wanted to come! I also am going to London.” And looking round for a place, she seated herself with a determined air. “Push off now, William,” she said authoritatively. “My daughter!” exclaimed Sir Thomas. She made no reply, and More saw that she had a small package under her left arm. He understood very well Margaret’s design, but had not the courage to speak of it to her. “Margaret, I would rather you had remained quietly at Chelsea,” he said. She made no reply. “Your mother and sisters need you!” “Nobody in this world has need of me,” replied the young girl coldly, “and Margaret has no longer any use for anybody.” “Margaret, you pain me sorely.” “I feel no pain myself! Row not so rapidly,” she said to Roper; “I am in no hurry; it is early. Frail bark, couldst thou only go to the end of the earth, how gladly would I steer thee thither!” And she stamped her foot on the bottom of the boat with passionate earnestness. Sir Thomas wished to speak, but his strength failed him. His eyes filled with tears, and, fearing to let them flow, he bowed his head on his hands. It was the first time in her life that Margaret had disobeyed him, and now it was for his own sake. Besides, he knew her thoroughly, and he felt sure that nothing could change the resolution she had taken not to leave him at that moment. They all three sat in silence. The father dared not speak; Roper was engaged in rowing the boat; and Margaret had enough in her own heart to occupy her. She became pale and red alternately, and turned from time to time to see if they were approaching the city. As soon as she perceived the spires of the churches she arose. “We are approaching the lions’ den,” she cried; “let us see if they will tear Daniel.” And again she took her seat.