The house seemed unnaturally still. At the top of the kitchen stairs she called aloud to Sarah—as loud, that is, as a certain tremor in her throat would permit. There came no reply. Down she went to face the worst: she was a woman of true courage—that is, a woman whom no amount of apprehension could deter when she knew she ought to seek the danger.
In the kitchen stood Sarah, motionless, frozen with fear. A candle was in her hand, just lighted. Hester's voice seemed to break her trance.
She started, stared, and fell a trembling. She made her drink some water, and then she came to herself.
"It's in the coal-cellar, miss!" she gasped. "I was that minute going to fetch a scuttleful! There's something buried in them coals as sure as my name's Sarah!"
"Nonsense!" returned Hester. "Who could scream like that from under the coals? Come; we'll go and see what it is."
"Laws, miss! don't you go near it now. It's too late to do anything. Either it's the woman's sperrit as they say was murdered there, or it's a new one."
"And you would let her be killed without interfering?"
"Oh, miss, all's over by this time!" persisted Sarah, with white lips trembling.
"Then you are ready to go to bed with a murderer in the house?" said Hester.
"He's done his business now, an' 'll go away."