It was a great relief to poor Mrs. Mack, that she actually saw Biddy at
that moment run across the street toward Toole's hall-door, and she
quickly averted her conscious glance from the light-heeled handmaid.
'Pray take a chair, Ma'am,' said Mrs. Mack, with a pallid face and a low
courtesy.
Mistress Matchwell made a faint courtesy in return, and, without saying
anything, sat down, and peered sharply round the room.
'I'm glad, Ma'am, you had no dust to-day; the rain, Ma'am, laid it
beautiful.'
The grim woman in black threw back her hood a little, and showed her
pale face and thin lips, and prominent black eyes, altogether a grisly
and intimidating countenance, with something wild and suspicious in it,
suiting by no means ill with her supernatural and malign pretensions.
Mrs. Mack's ear was strained to catch the sound of Toole's approach, and
a pause ensued, during which she got up and poured out a glass of port
for the lady, and she presented it to her deferentially. She took it
with a nod, and sipped it, thinking, as it seemed, uneasily. There was
plainly something more than usual upon her mind.
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