His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. He destroyed her clumsily made dolls whenever he found them. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin. Cathy rushed out from the kitchen, all smiles, with Lucy behind her. At length, he fell down on the road, fully expecting each moment would prove his last. The terror faded from her eyes.
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