She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. The massive door was unlocked, and they entered the cell. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. At other times, it would seem that the sea itself had gone away. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. The great world outside! She stood motionless beside the trunk, deep in speculation; and thus the doctor found her. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. "Perhaps things would have been different if she had lived. Thames Street was wholly impassable. By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks.
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