e room within was
not lighted, so she could not be seen--and peering anxiously into the
darkness thought she could distinguish two cloaked figures lurking in
the alley, and farther away, near one end of it, a third one, apparently
on the watch. They seemed to feel that they were observed, and all three
presently slunk away and vanished, leaving Isabelle half in doubt as to
whether they were the creatures of her excited imagination, or had been
real men prowling there. Tired at last of watching, without hearing or
seeing anything more, she withdrew from the window, closed and secured
it softly, procured a light, saw that the great, clumsy bolt on her door
was property adjusted, and made her preparations for bed; lying down at
last and trying to sleep, for she was very tired, but haunted by
vague fears and doubts that made her anxious and uneasy. She did not
extinguish her light, but placed it near the bed, and strove to reassure
herself and reason away her nameless terror; but all in vain. At every
little noise--the cracking of the furniture or the falling of a cinder
in the fire-place, she started up in fresh alarm, and could not close
her eyes. High up in the wall of one side of her room was a small round
window--a bull's eye--evidently intended to give light and air to some
dark inner chamber or closet, which looked like a great black eye in
the gray wall, keeping an unwinking watch upon her, and Isabelle found
herself again and again glancing up at it with a shudder. It was crossed
by two strong iron bars, leaving four small apertures, so that there
could not possibly be any danger of intrusion from that quarter, yet she
could not avoid feeling nervous about it, and at times fancied that she
could see two gleaming eye-balls in its black depths. She lay for a long
time perfectly motionless gazing at it, like one under a spell, and at
last was paralyzed with horror when a head actually appeared at one
of the four openings--a small, dark head, with wild, tangled elf-locks
hanging about it; next came a long, thin arm with a claw-like hand,
then the shoulder followed, and finally the whole body of a slender,
emaciated little girl wriggled dexterously, though with much difficulty,
through the narrow aperture, and the child dropped down upon the floor
as lightly and noiselessly as a feather, a snow-flake, or a waft of
thistle-down. She had been deceived by Isabelle's remaining so long
perfectly quiet, and believed her asleep;