Yet a dim terror of this latter evil hung over her, and once upstairs she threw herself on her bed and sobbed.
Philip heard her where he sate near the bottom of the short steep staircase, and at every sob the cords of love round his heart seemed tightened, and he felt as if he must there and then do something to console her.
But, instead, he sat on talking of nothings, a conversation in which Daniel joined with somewhat of surliness, while Bell, grave and anxious, kept wistfully looking from one to the other, desirous of gleaning some further information on the subject, which had begun to trouble her mind.

She hoped some chance would give her the opportunity of privately questioning Philip, but it seemed to be equally her husband's wish to thwart any such intention of hers.

He remained in the house-place, till after Philip had left, although he was evidently so much fatigued as to give some very distinct, though unintentional, hints to his visitor to be gone.
At length the house-door was locked on Philip, and then Daniel prepared to go to bed.

Kester had left for his loft above the shippen more than an hour before.

Bell had still to rake the fire, and then she would follow her husband upstairs.
As she was scraping up the ashes, she heard, intermixed with the noise she was making, the sound of some one rapping gently at the window.