She parted the curtains to find him standing there. Nine years ago, I worked in this very house—had a kind indulgent master, whom I robbed—twice robbed, at your instigation, villain; a mistress, whom you have murdered; a companion, whose friendship I have for ever forfeited; a mother, whose heart I have well-nigh broken. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. Night and day have been alike to me. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. She danced with two others.
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