Then I started up with a shriek as loud and piercing as my lungs could give, tore the handkerchief from my face, and confronted Sarah, who drew back, her dark face livid with anger, but without uttering a sound. In her hand she held a little bottle. I tried with a spring to dash it from her grasp; but she was too quick for me, and, with a step back against the screen, she held it out of my reach. Then the screen fell down with a loud crash. My attention was distracted from the woman to it for one moment, and in that moment she made another spring at my neck. But then there was a sound outside which had as many terrors for her as her own hard voice had for me. It was Mr. Rayner, calling sharply and sternly—
“Sarah, come out here!”
She started; then her face grew sullen and defiant, and she stood like a rock before me. Again Mr. Rayner called.
“Sarah, do you hear me? Come here!”
And, as if a spell had been cast upon her which it was vain for her to fight against, she went slowly out of the room, and I was left alone.
I sprang from the bed, locked the door, and fell down against it in the dark and cold in a passion of hysterical sobs that I could not restrain. Then they died away, and I felt my limbs grow numb and stiff; but I had not power to move, and I thought I must be dying.
Then I heard a fall at the bottom of the stairs and a woman’s cry, and immediately after a voice outside roused me.
CHAPTER XIII.
“Miss Christie!”
It was Mr. Rayner calling softly through the door. I did not answer or move.