"You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. She peered into the darkness. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and strawricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations. Taber and no one comment upon it. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck.
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