A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste. He listened. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. "The men. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. “You have not seen your sister lately,” he remarked. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be.
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