Happily they had no one else to wait for, and it heartened her mightily to think that she had ordered the promptest possible service of the dinner. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. "He is," returned Quilt, significantly. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess.
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