I'm no mollycoddle. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. “We are to begin our married life to-night—here where I first met you. ” She replied gently. ‘I am sure you will. He dropped the key on the counterpane. And of course! She had a brilliant idea. CHAPTER X.
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