” My heart leaped to my throat. My husband was standing on the other side of the door. I opened the door immediately.“Where were you?” He looked...at me questioningly.“I was sleeping.” In my rush, I couldn’t think of a better reply. “At this hour?” He frowned. “Where’s abbu?”“Don’t know; might be sleeping as well.” “Strange… everyone is sleeping.” He babbled to himself; suddenly he stared at me. “What happened to you? You don’t look fine.”Color drained from my face. “Nothing…” I stammered, not. *** I begin my story in early May 1858, when I was twenty-five years of age. One morning I was summoned from my desk at in the Loughborough branch bank in the Marketplace, to see the Chief Cashier at the Leicester office. Of course I searched my conscience to see what I had done wrong — but nothing more than the most trivial of sins came to mind. I am one of those happy people for whom columns of numbers dance intricate and beautiful dances, and so, work in a bank was my idea of heaven. The. More

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