There was no light in the counting-house itself , but there were lamps in the long narrow ware-room ; and consequently the window was bright . `` A moment ! '' said Tackleton . `` Can you bear to look through that window , do you think ? '' `` Why not ? '' returned the Carrier . `` A moment more , '' said Tackleton . `` Do n't commit any violence . It 's of no use . It 's dangerous too . You 're a strong-made man ; and you might do murder before you know it . '' The Carrier looked him in the face , and recoiled a step as if he had been struck . In one stride he was at the window , and he saw -- Oh , Shadow on the Hearth ! Oh , truthful Cricket ! Oh , perfidious wife ! He saw her with the old man -- old no longer , but erect and gallant -- bearing in his hand the false white hair that had won his way into their desolate and miserable home . He saw her listening to him , as he bent his head to whisper in her ear ; and suffering him to clasp her round the waist , as they moved slowly down the dim wooden gallery towards the door by which they had entered it . He saw them stop , and saw her turn -- to have the face , the face he loved so , so presented to his view ! -- and saw her , with her own hands , adjust the lie upon his head , laughing , as she did it , at his unsuspicious nature ! He clenched his strong right hand at first , as if it would have beaten down a lion .
But , opening it immediately again , he spread it out before the eyes XXXXX Tackleton -LRB- for he was tender of her even then -RRB- , and so , as they passed out , fell down upon a desk , and was as weak as any infant .
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