The aunt laughed. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Hilary. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. This individual apparently met with some impediment to his further progress; for he had not proceeded many steps when he turned suddenly about, and darted up the passage in which Wood stood. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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