I thank you more deeply than you imagine."
He gave her the candle and followed her to the passage.
"You know where the room is. I shall put the--the place--straight, and
then bring him up. I sha'n't be many minutes--ten, perhaps. The cover's
rather hard to fit."
Mary nodded from the top of the stairs. Strained by the events of the
night, and by the talk to Beaumaroy, she was again near tears; her eyes
were bright in the light of the candle, and told of nervous excitement.
Beaumaroy went back into the parlor, on his way to the Tower. Suddenly he
stopped and stood dead still, listening intently.
Mary busied herself upstairs, making her preparations with practiced
skill and readiness. Her agitation did not interfere with her work
--there her training told--but of her inner mind it had full possession.
She was afraid to be alone--there in that cottage. She longed for another
clasp of that friendly hand. Well, he would come soon; but he must bring
his burden with him. When she had finished what she had to do, she sat
down, and waited.
Beaumaroy waited too, outside the door leading to the Tower.
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