The other watched him keenly.
"She is coming for five years. Margret Howth."
He patted the dog with the same hard, unmoved touch.
"It is a religious duty with her. Besides, she must do something. They have been almost starving since the mill was burnt."
Holmes's face was bent; he could not see it. When he looked up, Knowles thought it more rigid, immovable than before.
When Knowles was going away, Holmes said to him,—
"When does Margret Howth go into that devils' den?"
"The House? On New-Year's." The scorn in him was too savage to be silent. "It is the best time to begin a new life. Yourself, now, you will have fulfilled your design by that time,—of marriage?"
Holmes was leaning on the mantel-shelf; his very lips were pale.
"Yes, I shall, I shall,"—in his low, hard tone.