‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. She pulled the trigger. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. Before many minutes elapsed, he had picked a large hole in the plaster, which showered down in a cloud of dust; and breaking off several laths, caught hold of a beam, by which he held with one hand, until with the other he succeeded, not without some difficulty, in forcing out one of the tiles. Young people ignore them until they find themselves up against them.
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