Time had been--nay, it was but the other day--when Alaric's impatient soul would have spurned at such a pace as this.

But now he sat tranquil enough.

His wife held one of his hands, and the other he pressed against his eyes, as though shading them from the light.

Light there was none, but he had not yet learnt to face Mrs.Woodward even in the darkness.
He had come out of the prison on the day before, and had spent an evening with her.

It is needless to say that no one had upbraided him, that no one had hinted that his backslidings had caused all this present misery, had brought them all to that wretched cabin, and would on the morrow separate, perhaps for ever, a mother and a child who loved each other so dearly.