When Jane now entered her habitation, she carefully locked the door on the inside. By so doing she had, unconsciously, locked herself in with this man.
On finding herself within, she looked around her. Everything was as she had left it. Nothing had been in the smallest degree deranged. No one was to be seen. Not a sound was to be heard. She looked up. The clock had ceased to tick. There was nothing to lead her to suppose that she was not alone.
So little did she conceive this as possible, that she at once went to the window, pulled down the blind, and then drew the curtain, lest that by any chance, any one might see what she purposed doing behind the locked door and the shrouded window.
CHAPTER XLVIII
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The carpet-bag was light, portable, and capacious. It was a contrivance for the convenience of travellers upon which we have not improved, and yet it has been relegated to the limbo of antiquated articles, is no more in commerce, and is replaced by portmanteaus and Gladstone bags, metal armed, and with vulnerable sides, that are scarred by the impact of other baggage equally furnished with iron or brass scutcheons and corner pieces that curl, add no strength, but serve vixenishly to scratch and tear whatever baggage is brought in contact with them.
Our children will hardly know what the old, worthy, serviceable carpet-bag was like—a bag simply constructed, as its name implies, out of bits of carpet.
Furnished with this article, that was of inconsiderable weight, Jane Marley drew a long breath. The bag was supplied with lock and key, but this was a matter of no consideration, as, when filled, she would not let it pass from her hand till its contents were secured in the cypress chest at Bindon, that had been put at her service by Mrs. Jose.
She drew apart the jaws of the bag, disclosing its striped canvas lining, and she set it beside her near the wardrobe.