Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. You can give up thinking and leave all the brain work to her. ‘I have no idea. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. ” He looked at her gravely. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his.
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