‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. But nothing followed to indicate that the liquid had stimulated the heart. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it.
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