She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. “But where are you going? Lucy, you’re safe here. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. It was still so dark, that nothing could be distinguished except the heavy masses of timber by which the premises were surrounded; but as they advanced, lights were visible in some of the windows. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. \" Lucy replied.
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