The period of repression was over. But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. She was powerless to move from her chair. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent.
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