The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. “Indeed I shall not forget your offer. Mr. I have heard of you from my husband.
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