Hurrying to the bell, she rang, and then waited with beating heart for the woman’s footsteps, which seemed an age in coming; but at last there was a tap at the door.
“Did you ring, ma’am?”
“Yes; I am unwell I am not coming down.”
“Can I do anything for you, ma’am?”
“No.”
Kate stood thinking for a few moments with her hands to her throbbing brows, for her head was growing confused again, and mental darkness seemed to be closing in; but once more the light came, and she tore the crushed flowers from her breast, put on her bonnet and mantle, and then, hurriedly, her gloves.
She felt that she must get away from that house at once; she could not determine then where she would go; that would come afterwards; she could not even think then of anything but escape.
Her preparations took but a few minutes, and then she went to the door and listened.
All was still in the house as far as she could make out, and timidly unfastening the door, she softly opened it, to look out on the great landing, but started back, for in the darkest corner there was a figure.
Only one of the statues, the one just beyond the great curtain over the archway leading to the little library; and gaining courage and determination, she stepped out, and cautiously looked down into the sombre hall.