She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. She pulled, he rose to his feet. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. She looked paler than ever; but her countenance, though bewildered, did not exhibit the alarm which might naturally have been anticipated from the strange and perplexing scene presented to her view. Go to her, I say, and take her in your arms, you poor benighted Ironsides! I can't make you see. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt.
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