On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. Wood's ornaments and wearing apparel, they prepared to depart. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. Sir John felt and looked several years younger. "Her ladyship—" faltered the attendant.
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