The fright, the terror, the panic that seized her was like the sudden rising of some black figure who grew before her, bent towards her and with cold hard fingers squeezed her throat. For an instant she was helpless, quivering, weak in every bone of her body.
Then some one said to her:
"But you can manage this."
"I can manage this," she answered almost aloud.
"You're alone now. You mustn't let things be too much for you."
She jumped out of bed, on the farther side away from her uncle. She put on her dressing-gown. She stood and pointed at the door.
"Now, uncle, you go back to your room at once. It's disgraceful coming in the middle of the night and disturbing every one. Go back to bed."
The new tone in her voice startled him. He looked at her in a bewildered fashion. He got up from the bed.
"Why, Maggie—I only—only—"
He stared from her to the candle and from the candle back to her again.