wind sounded mournfully
outside, and the small sounds, the rattlings, and strainings that responded
from within, constantly startled me, and simulated the sounds of steps, of
doors opening, of knockings, and so forth, rousing me with a palpitating
heart as often as I fell into a doze.

At length the wind subsided, and these ambiguous noises abated, and I,
fatigued, dropped into a quiet sleep. I was awakened by a sound in the
gallery--which I could not define. A considerable time had passed, for the
wind was now quite lulled. I sat up in my bed a good deal scared, listening
breathlessly for I knew not what.

I heard a step moving stealthily along the gallery. I called my cousin
Monica softly; and we both heard the door of the room in which my father's
body lay unlocked, some one furtively enter, and the door shut.

'What can it be? Good Heavens, Cousin Monica, do you hear it?'

'Yes, dear; and it is two o'clock.'

Everyone at Knowl was in bed at eleven. We knew very well that Mrs. Rusk
was rather nervous, and would not, for worlds, go alone, and at such an
hour, to the room. We called Mary Quince. We all three listened, but we
heard no other sound. I set these things down here because they made so
terrible an impression upon me at the time.

It ended by our peeping out, all three in a body, upon the gallery. Through
each window in the perspective came its blue sheet of moonshine; but the
door on which our attention was fixed was in the shade, and we thought we
could discern the glare of a candle through the key-hole. While in whispers
we were debating this point together, the door opened, the dusky light of
a candle emerged, the shadow of a figure crossed it within, and in another
moment the mysterious Doctor Bryerly--angular, ungainly, in the black cloth
coat that fitted little better than a coffin--issued from the chamber,
candle in hand; murmuring, I suppose, a prayer--it sounded like a
farewell--as much frightened as if I had just seen a sorcerer stealing
stepped cautiously upon the gallery floor, shutting and locking the door
upon the dead; and then having listened for a second, the saturnine figure,
casting a gigantic and distorted shadow upon the ceiling and side-wall from
the lowered candle, strode lightly down the long dark passage, away from
us.

I can only speak for myself, and I can honestly say that I felt as much
frightened as if I had just seen a sorcerer stealing from his unhallowed
business. I thi