It was bad luck to go to Canongate. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. ‘Is it such a terrible prospect? I will take care of you—as long as you obey me. \" Lucy said as they ascended the steps. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. She reached for the door handle. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images.
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