it was sudden and appalling. Then there rang through the wide
deserted halls and chambers a shrill despairing shriek, whilst far
and near, above, below, around, rose mocking and insulting laughter.
Dauntless as Anna was, and firm as was her reliance on the protection
of Heaven, it would perhaps be too much to say that she felt no
quickening of the pulse, no flutterings and throbbings of the heart
as she listened. But surprise, and a strong desire to penetrate the
mystery, greatly preponderated over any feelings of alarm, and her
first impulse was immediately to endeavour to find her way to the
scene of the disturbance. But a moment's consideration showed her how
foolish and imprudent this would be, totally unacquainted as she was
with the house, and with no better light than the feeble glimmer of
her lantern. If it was the work of designing persons, such a step
would be but to expose herself to danger, whilst, if the effect of
supernatural agency, she could neither learn what they wished to
conceal, nor shun what they chose to reveal. She therefore decided
upon passively awaiting the result of her adventure. As these
thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, the noise subsided, the
laughter became fainter and fainter; until at length it died away,
seemingly lost in the distance, and silence once more reigned around.
After the lapse of a short interval, this was again broken by a noise
resembling the rattling and clanking of a chain dragged heavily
along, which seemed to approach by slow degrees towards her
apartment, and as gradually receded; then again approached, and again
receded; and so on several times, but each time coming nearer than
before; until at length it paused beside that door of her room which
Anna had been unable to open. Cautiously raising her head from the
pillow, Anna endeavoured, with fixed and strained look, to pierce the
darkness in which that part of the room was enveloped; but though she
could not distinguish anything, and though no sound was made, she
became, with a thrill more nearly approaching terror than she had
before experienced, instinctively conscious that she was no longer
alone. Resolutely determined, however, not to yield to feelings of
alarm, Anna said, in a firm, unfaltering voice: 'Whoever or whatever
you are that thus disturb my repose and intrude upon my privacy, show
yourself, and name your errand, if you want anything from me; if not,
begone, for your attempts to terrify me are