IN THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.
Gwen, in the drawing-room, had hidden her face in the sofa cushion. She had not wanted to hear the dreadful steps of the men carrying in the stretcher.
She was feeling frightened and unstrung and as if she had lost Rachel. Since that fearful moment when the floor of the cottage gave way and Luke was buried in its ruins, her sister had not spoken a word to her. Her dazed condition frightened Gwen; and she almost dreaded seeing her.
She knew where she probably was at this moment; for no sooner had the men who had carried in Luke's body left, than Rachel had gone up into the room, where they had laid him. It was now 10 o'clock and she was still there, and there was a deathly silence in the house. Gwen opened the door and listened. Not a sound could be heard. All was still. At last feeling it unbearable she crept upstairs hoping to find Polly in the nursery.
Polly was sitting by Pat's little crib, crying. It was a relief to Gwen to hear her sobs. It broke the terrible silence.
"Is Mrs. Luke still there?" she asked, glancing in the direction of the room in which she knew they had laid him.
Polly could not speak for her tears; but nodded.
"It's ten o'clock," said Gwen. "She ought to be coming to bed. She'll be quite ill to-morrow. Do you think you could go in and persuade her to come? Tell her I want to speak to her. Or where is Mrs. Greville? Perhaps she would go."
"She ain't fit Miss Gwen," said Polly, "and I daren't go to her. She's in her room and maybe in bed for all I know. I guess I'd better go myself."
Gwen stood outside the room while Polly went softly in. The very fact of the door being opened frightened her; all her nerve had left her and she hoped that Polly would not be long.