B .-- Clara Burnham." He waited, with the plank in his hand; repeating the name over and over again, as if it was a question he was putting to himself.
"Clara Burnham?
Clara Burnham ?" He dropped the plank, and turned deadly pale in a moment.

His eyes wandered furtively backward and forward between the strip of wood on the floor and the half-demolished berth.

"Oh, God! what has come to me now ?" he said to himself, in a whisper.

He snatched up the ax, with a strange cry--something between rage and terror.

He tried--fiercely, desperately tried--to go on with his work.