Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. Wood now re-appeared with a very red face; and, followed by Winifred, took her seat at the table.
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