At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. “No, he wouldn’t come here of all places—just now. I'll teach you submission in time. He was unaware that his illness had opened the way to the inherent conscience and that the acquired had been temporarily blanketed, or that there was any ancient fanaticalism in his blood.
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