d to follow close upon each
other, and still I stood at the window. I heard Mrs. Rayner go, and
her escort, Uncle George, return. "B-rrr," he went, as he stamped up
the steps. "How his keys jingle," thought I; "and is it so cold?"

I cannot remember that I thought much of what had happened; my
senses were very keen, but emotion was torpid. I took note of every
barking dog, every distant wheel; sometimes I sang a little to
myself, and, all the while, I worked my foot to and fro along the
skirting.

Presently Uncle George left for good, taking the vicar with him. The
servants came to bed, giggling under their breath; then all was
still.

I did not leave the window, but in the silence--there being now no
sound to arrest my attention, save the chimes which I forgot to
hear--a change came over me. I fell into a sort of dream; scene
after scene the past rose before me in bright visions; then came the
present, chaos. I stood, as it were, in the centre of nothingness,
alone and lost, not a sound, not a light, not a finger to touch.

"What matter," thought I,--"what matter if I live or die? Surely it
is in this state that people kill themselves."

I heard the chimes again, and a duck quacked in the pond; it was as
the laugh of a devil.

I turned from the window and stumbled over something; I lighted a
candle, and sat shivering on the shrouded bed.

"Two o'clock," thought I; "it is very cold. What shall I do? Shall I
sleep or die?"

And, as it were with a flash, there came to me the thought that
perhaps I was not the only one who sat at this moment coldly
contemplating death. An awful fear seized me that perhaps he,
Gabriel, might be driven to the haven of despairers.

I threw on my cloak, and, carrying my shoes, slowly and breathlessly
crept down the stairs to the back door, which had a light fastening.
And I ran across garden and park, across Graysmill Heath in the
night, strengthened by one fear against all others, nor did I stop
until I stood on the little hillock within sight of the Thatched
Cottage.

I saw at once that a light was burning in the window of Gabriel's
old room. I sprang on and halted once more on the grass-patch before
the Cottage door. The blind was down, a shadow passed to and fro. I
could see very well by the way he moved that he was not calm. I
wanted to get to him. I tried the house door, but it was firmly
fastened. I sat down on the ground and kept my eyes fixed on the
window. He stooped r