One of the windows stood wide,
admitting the rain and wind, and as she paused, holding the door open,
the draught blew the cloak from her. She stepped out quickly and shut
the door behind her. On her left was the blind end of the passage; she
turned to the right. She took one step into the darkness and stood
motionless. Beside her, within a few feet of her, some one had moved,
with a dull sound as of a boot on wood; a sound so near her that she held
her breath, and pressed herself against the wall.
She listened. Perhaps some of the servants--it was a common usage--had
made their beds on the floor. Perhaps one of the women had stirred in
the room against the wall of which she crouched. Perhaps--but, even
while she reassured herself, the sound rose anew at her feet.
Fortunately at the same instant the glare of the lightning flooded all,
and showed the passage, and showed it empty. It lit up the row of doors
on her right and the small windows on her left, and discovered facing her
the door which shut off the rest of the house. She could have
thanked--nay, she did thank God for that light. If the sound she had
heard recurred she did not hear it; for, as the thunder which followed
hard on the flash crashed overhead and rolled heavily eastwards, she felt
her way boldly along the passage, touching first one door, and then a
second, and then a third.
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