In trying to move yet more cautiously he staggered against the stair-rail, squeezing Snip until the little fellow yelped sharply; and Seth stood breathlessly awaiting some token that the mistress of the house had been alarmed.
He was surprised because of hearing nothing; it appeared strange that any one could sleep while he was making such a noise, and yet the silence was as profound as before he began to descend.
Never had he believed a flight of stairs could be so long, and when it seemed as if he should be at the bottom, he had hardly gotten more than half-way down.
The descent came to an end, however, as must all things in this world, and he groped his way toward the kitchen door, not so much as daring to breathe.
Once he fancied it was possible to distinguish a slight, rustling sound; but when he stopped all was silent as before, therefore the fugitive went on until his hand was on the kitchen door.
The key was turned noiselessly in the lock; he raised the latch, and the door swung open with never a creak.
The moonlight flooded that portion of the kitchen where he stood irresolute, as if even now believing it might be better to confess why he had been forced to come away from New York; and as he turned his head ever so slightly to listen, a sudden fear came upon him.
He saw, not more than half a dozen paces distant, a human form advancing. A cry of fear burst from his lips, and he would have leaped out of the open door but that a gentle pressure on his shoulder restrained him.
“Where are you going, my child?” a kindly voice asked; and he knew that what he had mistaken for an apparition was none other than Aunt Hannah.
Seth could not speak; his mouth had suddenly become parched, and his knees trembled beneath him. He had been discovered while seemingly prowling around the house like a thief, and on the instant he realized in what way his actions might be misconstrued.