’ He threw a fulminating glance at Gerald. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. She had never heard anything so unholy. It wasn’t pretty. Then he understood. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes.
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