"Oh, no, the air was wonderfully bracing," Betty replied at random, scarcely aware of what she was saying. "I very nearly lost my way, though. There are so many paths and the trees quite hide the house."
"Yes. I purchased the property mainly because of the privacy and seclusion it promised. I am not a hermit," Mrs. Atterbury added, with the shadow of a smile, "but the rush and turmoil of an active social existence bore me. You will, perhaps, find it rather monotonous here, Betty, but there will be more tasks for you to do when you have settled down and learned your way about the city. I shall have many errands for you."
"I am glad," Betty responded with nervous eagerness. "The thought of the city doesn't frighten me any more, now that I feel anchored, Mrs. Atterbury, and I want to do anything I can. You know I have been idle all day and it does not seem as if I were earning my salary."
Mrs. Atterbury scrutinized the girl's face, and her own relaxed for an instant and sagged into deeply graven lines of utter weariness and exhaustion. The necessity for rigid self-command had faltered before Betty's seemingly innocent candor; the mask had slipped momentarily and from beneath it peered a shadow of the anxiety and dread which had beset her unexpected guest of the afternoon.
With the next breath, however, she had herself again in hand.
"You will not complain of that tomorrow." Her voice was amusedly tolerant. "We shall have a double amount of correspondence to attend to, remember, and I will positively be at home to no one until it is finished. I think I shall retire almost immediately after dinner, my dear, for I have a slight headache."
The warmth of the house after the sharp, nipping atmosphere outdoors brought an early drowsiness to Betty, who went directly to her room after the meal. In spite of the puzzling events of the day, and the air of mystery which seemed to envelop the household, a lassitude stole over her and her heavy eyelids drooped and fell.
The dropping of coals in the tiny grate awakened her and she started up to find that it was close on to midnight. Stumbling softly to the door she opened it and listened, but the silence was unbroken.
Disrobing, she laid her dressing gown and slippers ready to hand, extinguished the lamp and crept into bed. Her first deep sleep was over and Betty lay wide-eyed, staring into the darkness. A vague sensation of suspense set her brain a-tingle and she felt as if she were waiting with every nerve taut for something which she could not name.
Gradually, however, the feeling was dispelled and she was sinking into an uneasy slumber when all at once she started up in bed with a shivering gasp, her heart leaping wildly and the very hair upon her brow seeming to stir and rise as though an unseen hand were lifting it. A sudden, muffled crash had pierced her consciousness and the very air seemed to quiver with the jar of impact, although no further sound broke the stillness. Betty listened with bated breath for a moment, then rose, impelled by an impulse stronger than her power to combat.