“Yes, I remember,” she said. Have you seen much of her lately?” “Nothing at all,” he answered. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. Can you wonder that I expect you to fulfil yours?” “I am not aware,” she answered, “that I have ever failed in doing so. He drew her closer.
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