The Night-Cellar. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. "It is an ordinary wedding," he added; "some shopkeeper's daughter. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. Montressor’s guests. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks. "I'll tell you all about it presently.
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