The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. The forgiveness and reconciliation was a cold and formal affair, and afterwards her father went off gloomily to his study, and Mr. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls. “Dear me!” he said. I will shed no more blood. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. She turned there and beckoned.
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