. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. You must live for me. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. Hers were less noble, yet stately. But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. ” She paused.
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