kind of disquietude kept them waking too. The darkness out of
which this light had broken on them gathered around; and the shadow of
their guilty brother was in the house where his foot had never trod.

Nor was it to be driven out, nor did it fade before the sun. Next
morning it was there; at noon; at night Darkest and most distinct at
night, as is now to be told.

John Carker had gone out, in pursuance of a letter of appointment from
their friend, and Harriet was left in the house alone. She had been
alone some hours. A dull, grave evening, and a deepening twilight, were
not favourable to the removal of the oppression on her spirits. The idea
of this brother, long unseen and unknown, flitted about her in frightful
shapes He was dead, dying, calling to her, staring at her, frowning on
her. The pictures in her mind were so obtrusive and exact that, as the
twilight deepened, she dreaded to raise her head and look at the dark
corners of the room, lest his wraith, the offspring of her excited
imagination, should be waiting there, to startle her. Once she had such
a fancy of his being in the next room, hiding--though she knew quite
well what a distempered fancy it was, and had no belief in it--that she
forced herself to go there, for her own conviction. But in vain. The
room resumed its shadowy terrors, the moment she left it; and she had no
more power to divest herself of these vague impressions of dread, than
if they had been stone giants, rooted in the solid earth.

It was almost dark, and she was sitting near the window, with her head
upon her hand, looking down, when, sensible of a sudden increase in the
gloom of the apartment, she raised her eyes, and uttered an involuntary
cry. Close to the glass, a pale scared face gazed in; vacantly, for an
instant, as searching for an object; then the eyes rested on herself,
and lighted up.

'Let me in! Let me in! I want to speak to you!' and the hand rattled on
the glass.

She recognised immediately the woman with the long dark hair, to whom
she had given warmth, food, and shelter, one wet night. Naturally afraid
of her, remembering her violent behaviour, Harriet, retreating a little
from the window, stood undecided and alarmed.

'Let me in! Let me speak to you! I am thankful--quiet--humble--anything
you like. But let me speak to you.'

The vehement manner of the entreaty, the earnest expression of the face,
the trembling of the two hands that were raised imploringly, a ce