There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood. His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers.
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