Darting to the nearest window, she peered outside. But as there was no view of the front from the kitchen, she did not see her.
In a panic she started to scream.
“Mrs. Fishberry! Aunt Elsie! Where are you?”
Wildly she looked about the dimly-lighted room, as if in some corner she expected to see the ghost of the tower, working its evil upon them, because they had dared to return to this old house.
But she saw nothing, and overcome with terror, she sank to the floor in a bitter abandon of weeping.
The room grew darker; the silence became ominous. Any moment she expected that weird apparition with its skinny hands to enter through the closed windows, and torture her. Now and again she heard queer moans and creaks, but whether they were caused by the wind in the trees outside, or mice in the ancient boards, she did not know.
She must have fallen asleep, crouched in that position on the floor, for when she regained consciousness it was entirely dark in the kitchen. Hardly realizing where she was, she stumbled to her feet and went right to the drawer in the cupboard where the candles were kept. She lighted one, and shivered anew at the weird, gloomy shadows it cast upon the walls. If the house seemed forbidding before, it was actually ghostly now. Strange shapes seemed to rise out of the darkness, to leer at her in her loneliness. She groped her way to the stove and sat down upon the hard kitchen chair beside it to think.
It was the thought of Linda Carlton that kept her from losing her reason. Linda, who had flown over the Atlantic Ocean alone in the darkness, Linda who had assured Helen that her fears were groundless. She must live through this experience, she told herself, live to be a credit to the girl who had saved her life! Live to stand up for Linda Carlton when she should be accused by false witnesses! With a grim determination to control herself at any cost, she walked back to the cupboard for a saucer and a spoon, and forced herself to eat the oatmeal which had all the while been cooking on the oil stove.
The food revived her, and the water tasted good. Somehow she felt better.
Remembering that her bedroom was lighter than the kitchen, because she could open the shutters, Helen took a candle and ascended the stairs. But here a new terror took possession of her. She recalled the fact that she could see the ghost in the tower from the window!