han a minute, however, when I was startled into
a very different mood. I thought I heard a sobbing noise, which
seemed to me to come from some one overhead, some one lying upon the
boards of the room above me. I was rooted to the spot where I stood,
for the sob seemed scarcely human, and yet it seemed to be hers. A
new feeling about Winifred's madness came upon me. I recalled
Mivart's horrible description of the mimicry. My God! what was I
about to see? I dared not turn and go upstairs: the fire and the
singing tea-kettle were, at least, companions. But something impelled
me to take the bow and draw it across the crwth-strings. Presently I
thought I heard a door overhead softly open, and this was followed by
the almost inaudible creak of a light footstep descending the stairs.
With paralysed pulses I kept my eyes fixed on the half-open door, in
the certainty of seeing her pass along the little passage leading
from the staircase to the front door. But as I heard the dear
footsteps descend stair after stair my horror left me, and I nearly
began to sob myself. My thoughts now were all for her safety. I
slipped into the recess, fearing to take her by surprise.

Soon the slim girlish figure passed into the room. And as I saw her
glide along I was stunned, as though I had not expected to see her,
as though I had not known the footstep coming down the stairs.

With her eyes fixed on the fireplace, she brushed past me without
perceiving me, took a chair, and sat down in front of the fire, her
elbows resting on her knees, and her face meditatively sunk between
her hands. Her sobbing bad ceased, and unless my ears deceived me,
had given place to an occasional soft happy gurgle of childish
laughter.

I stepped out from the shelter of my archway into the middle of the
room, dubious as to what course to pursue. I thought that, on the
whole, the movement that would startle her least would be to slip
quietly out of the room and out of the house while she was in the
reverie, then knock at the door. She would arouse herself then,
expecting to see some one, and would not be so entirely taken by
surprise at the sight of my face as she would have been at finding
me, without the slightest warning, standing behind her in the room.
I did this: I slipped out at the door and knocked, gently at first,
but got no answer; then a little louder--no answer; then louder and
louder, till at last I thundered at the door in a state of growing
alarm;