“Bid—bid—him go!” crawling towards the room.
“And then—”
“Then—you shall hear—all—all. The sight of him would overturn my reason! Even now my brain reels. Bid him go—implore him not to haunt me—not to drive me mad by a glance!”
Ada’s object was more than accomplished.
“Wait for me,” she cried, and glided down the staircase, leaving Gray crouched up by the door of the room, with his glowing eyes fixed upon the staircase, in awful expectation of seeing each moment a dreadful form, that would drive him to insanity by one look from its glazed eye.
The period of trembling and nervousness was now passed with Ada, and with the lightness and speed of a young fawn, she bounded into the room where sat poor Maud.
The poor creature’s eyes brightened as Ada approached, and she said,—
“I have not stirred—I have not spoken.”
“Hush! Hush,” said Ada. “Speak not now. Here, take this paper. Fly across the fields. Look not back, but get away from this place.”
“Yes, yes,” said Maud.