What came to her now was a single sound, not made up of others—a low, definite sound. And it was not at her door in front—it was at the side of the house—it was at her window!
It was a slight sound—a sort of tapping rhythmically repeated—a signal!
Aurora Lane stopped breathing—her heart stopped in her bosom. The face was icy white which she turned toward the window back of which she heard this sound, this signal. She thought she had gone mad. She believed that at last her mind had broken under all the trials that had been heaped upon it. Then her eyes began to move about, startled, like those of a wild deer, seeking which way to leap.
It seemed to her she heard now another sound in addition, a sort of low call, a word.... Yes, it was her name:
"Aurora! Aurora!"
What could it mean? It was some visitor come there in insult—it could be no more than that. And yet what impiousness, what mockery! Because, what she heard, she had heard before! It had been twenty years since, and more—but she had heard it then.
Resolved suddenly to brave the worst, whatever it might be, she rose and swiftly stepped to the side door which made out upon the narrow yard.
A man was standing near the door, now turning away from the window—a tall man, slouching down like an old man.
"Who's there?" she cried, intending to call out aloud to give the alarm, but failing to raise her voice above a whisper, such was her fear. Yes, it was someone come here to offer yet another insult.
But the man came into the field of light which shone around her through the door—came closer, reaching out his hands to her. She heard him struggling with his own voice, trying to speak. At last: "Aurora! Aurora! Let me in! Will you let me in?"