"Yes, Beverly,—half an hour ago."
"Come, then, let us go. The carriage is waiting at the next corner; and the street-lamp near the front door is extinguished. All is dark without; no one can see us."
"Are you sure, Beverly—I tremble so."
"Come, Joanna," and through the thick darkness he led her toward the hall, supporting her form upon his arm.
"O, whither are you leading me," she whispered in a broken voice.
"Can you ask? Don't you remember my note of to-day? To the Temple, Joanna."
Their steps echo faintly from the entry.
Then the faint sound produced by the careful closing of the street door is heard.
A pause of one or two minutes.
Hark! The rolling of carriage wheels.