which might lead to a prison in a tower or a dormitory in a monastery--
any where except to ordinary, natural bedchambers. And when she
reached them, what gloomy rooms they were, leading one out of
another, up a step and down a step, with great beds that seemed only fit
to lie in state in, after having turned one's face to the wall and slipped
out of weary life into the imagined freedom of the life beyond. Home!
If that was home, Christian shivered.

"Are you cold? Barker, send Mrs. Grey's maid with her warm shawl.
Every body feels the Lodge cold at first, but you will get used to it.
Wait one minute," for she was pressing eagerly to the gleam of light
through the half-opened nursery door. "My wife!"

"Yes Dr. Grey."

As he put his hands on her shoulders, Christian looked into his eyes--
right into them, for she was as tall as he. There was a sad quietness in
her expression, but there was no shrinking from him, and no distrust.

"My wife need never be afraid of any thing or any body in this house."

"I know that."

"And by-and-by, many things here which feel strange now will cease to
feel so. Do you believe this?"

She smiled--a very feeble smile; but, at least, there was no pretense in
it.

"One thing more. Whatever goes wrong, you will always come at once