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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. Her first orders were to summon the rest of her servants to make immediate preparations for her departure for Lancashire. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. Such pretty manners, she thought. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground.
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