This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. Wood fared still worse. . "She wouldn't let me go. You met Sir Rowland at the house of a Romisch priest, Father Spencer.
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