was in about her.

As I went again through the village, I observed a narrow lane
striking off to the left, and resolved to explore in that direction.
It led up to one side of the large house of which I have already
spoken. As I came near, I smelt what has been to me always a
delightful smell--that of fresh deals under the hands of the
carpenter. In the scent of those boards of pine is enclosed all the
idea the tree could gather of the world of forest where it was
reared. It speaks of many wild and bright but chiefly clean and
rather cold things. If I were idling, it would draw me to it across
many fields.--Turning a corner, I heard the sound of a saw. And this
sound drew me yet more. For a carpenter's shop was the delight of my
boyhood; and after I began to read the history of our Lord with
something of that sense of reality with which we read other
histories, and which, I am sorry to think, so much of the well-meant
instruction we receive in our youth tends to destroy, my feeling
about such a workshop grew stronger and stronger, till at last I
never could go near enough to see the shavings lying on the floor of
one, without a spiritual sensation such as I have in entering an old
church; which sensation, ever since having been admitted on the
usual conditions to a Mohammedan mosque, urges me to pull off, not
only my hat, but my shoes likewise. And the feeling has grown upon
me, till now it seems at times as if the only cure in the world for
social pride would be to go for five silent minutes into a
carpenter's shop. How one can think of himself as above his
neighbours, within sight, sound, or smell of one, I fear I am
getting almost unable to imagine, and one ought not to get out of
sympathy with the wrong. Only as I am growing old now, it does not
matter so much, for I daresay my time will not be very long.