It reminded him of a grave he had never seen save in his
mind. It was past midnight. He would go back to his bed, though he
felt no inclination to sleep.
As he approached the stable, walking in the shadow of the trees on the
side of the street, he saw a woman come out of the blacksmith's shop
opposite the stable. For a moment she paused, her face raised towards
the window of his room, and then retreated into the shop.
It was Harriet Floyd. He stepped behind a tree and watched the door of
the shop. In a moment she reappeared and looked up towards his window
again. He thought she might be waiting to see him, so he moved out
into the moonlight and advanced towards her.
"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, excitedly. "I've been waiting to see
you. I--I must tell you something, but it won't do to stand here;
somebody will see us. Can't we?--come in the shop a minute."
Without speaking, and full of wonder, he followed her into the dark
building. She led him past piles of old iron, wagon-tires,
ploughshares, tubs of black water, anvils, and sledges to the forge and
bellows at the back of the shop.
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