“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. At least here she was safe. " "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. Nicholas is dead. However, as things have turned up, it's fortunate that I came back. You are infatuated. ” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. —D'ye hear?" Still the widow remained silent. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. You are—horrible. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned.
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