“And after that?” she said.
“Not until you wish me,” he answered. “I am your servant now—his no more.”
CHAPTER LXXVII.
THE ANGEL OF THE DEVIL.
There came a great burst of thunder. It was the last of the storm. It bellowed and shuddered, went, and came rolling up again. It died away at last in the great distance, with a low continuous rumbling as if it would never cease. The silence that followed was like the Egyptian darkness; it might be felt.
Out of the tense heart of the silence came a faint sound. It came again and again, at regular intervals.
“That is my uncle’s step!” said Arctura in a scared whisper through the dark.
It was plainly a slow step—far off, but approaching.
“I wonder if he has a light!” she added hurriedly. “He often goes in the dark without one. If he has you must get behind the altar.”
“Do not speak a word,” said Donal; “let him think you are asleep. If he has no light, I will stand so that he cannot come near the bed without coming against me. Do not be afraid; he shall not touch you.”
The steps were coming nearer all the time. A door opened and shut. Then they were loud—they were coming along the gallery! They ceased. He was standing up there in the thick darkness!