A thick
green shawl was pinned across my breast. My hands were encased
with black half-mittens worked with steel beads; on my feet were
large pattens, originally the property of my deceased grandmother.
I carried a blue cotton umbrella. As I passed before a mirror, I
could not help glancing at it, nor could I disguise from myself the
fact that I was not handsome.
Drawing a chair into a recess, I sat down with folded hands, calmly
awaiting the arrival of my master. Once or twice a fearful yell
rang through the house, or the rattling of chains, and curses
uttered in a deep, manly voice, broke upon the oppressive
stillness. I began to feel my soul rising with the emergency of
the moment.
"You look alarmed, miss. You don't hear anything, my dear, do
you?" asked the housekeeper nervously.
"Nothing whatever," I remarked calmly, as a terrific scream,
followed by the dragging of chairs and tables in the room above,
drowned for a moment my reply. "It is the silence, on the
contrary, which has made me foolishly nervous."
The housekeeper looked at me approvingly, and instantly made some
tea for me.
I drank seven cups; as I was beginning the eighth, I heard a crash,
and the next moment a man leaped into the room through the broken
window.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103