After considering for a
moment, she hung a handkerchief over the keyhole, and laid an old shawl
longwise at the bottom of the door, so as to hide the light in her room
from the observation of any one in the house who might wake and come
that way. This done, she opened the upper part of her dress, and,
slipping her fingers into a secret pocket hidden in the inner side of
her stays, produced from it some neatly folded leaves of thin paper.
Spread out on the table, the leaves revealed themselves--all but the
last--as closely covered with writing, in her own hand.

The first leaf was headed by this inscription: "My Confession. To be put
into my coffin, and to be buried with me when I die."

She turned the manuscript over, so as to get at the last page. The
greater part of it was left blank. A few lines of writing, at the top,
bore the date of the day of the week and month on which Lady Lundie had
dismissed her from her situation at Windygates. The entry was expressed
in these terms:

"I have seen IT again to-day. The first time for two months past. In
the kitchen-garden. Standing behind the young gentleman whose name is
Delamayn. Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you. I have resisted.
By prayer. By meditation in solitude. By reading good books. I have left
my place. I have lost sight of the young gentleman for good. Who will
IT stand behind? and point to next? Lord have mercy upon me! Christ have
mercy upon me!"

Under this she now added the following lines, first carefully prefixing
the date:

"I have seen IT again to-night. I notice one awful change. IT has
appeared twice behind the same person. This has never happened before.
This makes the temptation more terrible than ever. To-night, in his
bedroom, between the bed-head and the wall, I have seen IT behind
young Mr. Delamayn again. The head just above his face, and the finger
pointing downward at his throat. Twice behind this one man. And never
twice behind any other living creature till now. If I see IT a third
time behind him--Lord deliver me! Christ deliver me! I daren't think of
it. He shall leave my cottage to-morrow. I would fain have drawn back
from the bargain, when the stranger took the lodgings for his friend,
and the friend proved to be Mr. Delamayn. I didn't like it, even then.
After the warning to-night, my mind is made up. He shall go. He may
have his money back, if he likes. He shall go. (Memorandum: Felt the
temptation whispering this time, a