She never knew what became of her farmer after that. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. Bring me food, a man, hurry!” She placed the stone back over the crypt to hide the evidence of what she had uncovered.
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