I've just turned them out," faltered the woman,
shivering as with an ague fit.
"What--what was that--that went away in the carriage?" asked Clara
shuddering.
"The colonel, gone to meet the early stage at Tip-Top, to take him
to Washington. He would have taken leave of you last night, but when
he came to your parlor you had left it."
"But--but--there is blood upon your hand, Dorcas Knight!" cried
Clara, shaking with horror.
"I--I know; the cats scratched me as I put them out," stammered the
stern woman, trembling almost as much as Clara herself.
These answers failed to satisfy the young girl, who shrank in terror
and loathing from that woman's presence, and sought the privacy of
her own chamber, murmuring:
"What has happened? What has been done? Oh, heaven! oh, heaven! have
mercy on us! some dreadful deed has been done in this house to-
night!"
There was no more sleep for Clara. She heard the clock strike every
hour from one to six in the morning, when she arose and dressed
herself and went from her room, expecting to see upon the floor and
walls and upon the faces of the household signs of some dreadful
tragedy enacted upon the previous night.
But all things were as usual--the same dark, gloomy and neglected
magnificence about the rooms and passages, the same reserved, sullen
and silent aspect about the persons.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100