on than I had hitherto made.

Exactly as noon sounded, I saw _him_ stop at an opposite door,
and--did I see rightly? Yes--alone. No; I had not approached
sufficiently close to the window; when I did, _she_, too, was there,
at the same slight distance behind, in the same silent, patient,
motionless attitude. He went on, and, steady as his shadow, she
pursued. I now resolved to see them still closer, and for that purpose
proceeded to the hall-door, where I remained carelessly standing until
the man approached it. I could observe that he walked at an even
deliberate pace; and as he carried none of the cumbrous machinery
distinctive of his craft, his step was steady and unimpeded. He was a
low-sized, well-made man, probably somewhat more than forty years of
age. He was neatly dressed; his attire being a suit of some of those
grave colours and primitive patterns which find so much favour in the
eyes of staid Dissenters, and persons of that class. Indeed, I could
see by his whole deportment, that the occupation he pursued was one of
choice, not of necessity. His features were regular, nor was there in
his countenance any thing remarkable, except that it was pale and
subdued, with a look of endurance which peculiar circumstances perhaps
imparted to it. What I chiefly noticed, was an evident consciousness
about the man that some disagreeable object lurked behind him; and
when I caught his eye, which I did once or twice, I could see in its
glance that he quite understood why my attention was directed to him.
He did not utter a word in my hearing, and there was altogether in his
appearance an air of depression and reserve which still further aided
the impression Sainsbury's story had made on my imagination. When he
next paused, his short progress brought his attendant close to me--in
every way a more striking and interesting person. She was a woman tall
in stature, of an erect figure, finely proportioned, as well as the
coarse mourning garments and large dark cloak in which she was muffled
allowed me to judge. She must have been, in youth, very handsome; but
on her thin ashen cheek premature age had already made unusual ravage.
She could not, from the unbroken and graceful outline of her form, be
much more than thirty; but her face was marked with the passionate
traces of nearly double that period. Nothing of life I ever beheld
exhibited the paleness--the monumental paleness of that face. On the
brow, on the cheek, all was the as