ich
had passed slowly to her on the night of her first experiment with
the keys passed quickly now. When bed-time came, bed-time took her by
surprise.

She waited longer on this occasion than she had waited before. The
admiral was at home; he might alter his mind and go downstairs again,
after he had gone up to his room; he might have forgotten something in
the library and might return to fetch it. Midnight struck from the clock
in the servants' hall before she ventured out of her room, with the keys
again in her pocket, with the candle again in her hand.

At the first of the stairs on which she set her foot to descend, an
all-mastering hesitation, an unintelligible shrinking from some peril
unknown, seized her on a sudden. She waited, and reasoned with herself.
She had recoiled from no sacrifices, she had yielded to no fears, in
carrying out the stratagem by which she had gained admission to St.
Crux; and now, when the long array of difficulties at the outset had
been patiently conquered, now, when by sheer force of resolution the
starting-point was gained, she hesitated to advance. "I shrank from
nothing to get here," she said to herself. "What madness possesses me
that I shrink now?"

Every pulse in her quickened at the thought, with an animating shame
that nerved her to go on. She descended the stairs, from the third floor
to the second, from the second to the first, without trusting herself
to pause again within easy reach of her own room. In another minute, she
had reached the end of the corridor, had crossed the vestibule, and had
entered the drawing-room. It was only when her grasp was on the heavy
brass handle of the sliding door--it was only at the moment before
she pushed the door back--that she waited to take breath. The
Banqueting-Hall was close on the other side of the wooden partition
against which she stood; her excited imagination felt the death-like
chill of it flowing over her already.

She pushed back the sliding door a few inches--and stopped in momentary
alarm. When the admiral had closed it in her presence that day, she had
heard no noise. When old Mazey had opened it to show her the rooms in
the east wing, she had heard no noise. Now, in the night silence, she
noticed for the first time that the door made a sound--a dull, rushing
sound, like the wind.

She roused herself, and pushed it further back--pushed it halfway into
the hollow chamber in the wall constructed to receive it. She advance