” Lucy yanked him into the hidden door to Room 109, a door to the backstage that looked like the entrance to a broom closet. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl.
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