When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. The floor was thickly strewn with sawdust and shavings; and across the room ran a long and wide bench, furnished at one end with a powerful vice; next to which three nails driven into the boards served, it would appear from the lump of unconsumed tallow left in their custody, as a substitute for a candlestick. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. Sir Rowland witnessed these proceedings like one stupified.
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