“The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me.
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