Blanche promised that Bessie should come again some day after tea, and to make Ross sure that Bessie had done no harm, she very slyly slipped the cartridges into his hand. He looked his surprise as well as his thanks, and, taking Bessie’s hand, he led her home.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BESSIE’S VISIT.
A chilly, drizzling October rain. How the wind whistled about the old house, leaping around the corners, and driving against the shutters, which creaked as they flew back and forth. The night was coming on, and the darkness was intense. The hickory wood fire in the sitting-room stove sent out its inviting warmth, and Miss Elsworth sat down beside it with a feeling of extreme satisfaction.
Suddenly a wild, shrill laugh rang out through the storm, and as Blanche was about to raise the window, a white face, and a heavy mass of hair, dripping with rain, arose before her. It was enough to make a strong heart quail, and for a moment Blanche stood speechless, for the mournful wail of the wind and the dashing of the gusts of rain gave a still more frightful sound to the weird laugh, and the tapping of the white fingers on the panes.
“Oh, Miss Robin, let me in; it’s so cold out here,” said a voice outside.
The second glance told Miss Elsworth who the strange visitor was.
“Come to the door,” she said, “and I will let you in.”