han he had done. But he went on, instead, to the table where his
desk, always jealously locked, was placed, and having lighted the candles
which stood by it, he glanced at me, and said--

'You must wait a little, Maud; I shall have something to say to you. Take
this candle and amuse yourself with a book meanwhile.'

I was accustomed to obey in silence. I chose a volume of engravings,
and ensconced myself in a favourite nook in which I had often passed a
half-hour similarly. This was a deep recess by the fireplace, fenced on the
other side by a great old escritoir. Into this I drew a stool, and, with
candle and book, I placed myself snugly in the narrow chamber. Every now
and then I raised my eyes and saw my father either writing or ruminating,
as it seemed to me, very anxiously at his desk.

Time wore on--a longer time than he had intended, and still he continued
absorbed at his desk. Gradually I grew sleepy, and as I nodded, the book
and room faded away, and pleasant little dreams began to gather round me,
and so I went off into a deep slumber.

It must have lasted long, for when I wakened my candle had burnt out; my
father, having quite forgotten me, was gone, and the room was dark and
deserted. I felt cold and a little stiff, and for some seconds did not know
where I was.

I had been wakened, I suppose, by a sound which I now distinctly heard, to
my great terror, approaching. There was a rustling; there was a breathing.
I heard a creaking upon the plank that always creaked when walked upon in
the passage. I held my breath and listened, and coiled myself up in the
innermost recess of my little chamber.

Sudden and sharp, a light shone in from the nearly-closed study door. It
shone angularly on the ceiling like a letter L reversed. There was a pause.
Then some one knocked softly at the door, which after another pause was
slowly pushed open. I expected, I think, to see the dreaded figure of
the linkman. I was scarcely less frightened to see that of Madame de la
Rougierre. She was dressed in a sort of grey silk, which she called her
Chinese silk--precisely as she had been in the daytime. In fact, I do not
think she had undressed. She had no shoes on. Otherwise her toilet was
deficient in nothing. Her wide mouth was grimly closed, and she stood
scowling into the room with a searching and pallid scrutiny, the candle
held high above her head at the full stretch of her arm.

Placed as I was in a deep recess, and in a s