A low sweet voice could be distinctly heard now, but whether on the roof or up the chimney, or at the window or the door, it was quite impossible to say.
CHAPTER XVII.
The preacher drew forth a knife, and went up to the door.
Sir ... sir ... you are wanted Sir ... right away Sir, said a low voice at his elbow....
Who are you? ... where are you? cried he ... but the blood curdled about his heart, and he recoiled from the sound as he spoke.
Here I be ... here ... here.
Elizabeth dropped on her knees and hid her face in the lap of her sister; and Rachel, who was not of a temper to be easily frightened, gathered her up and folded her arms about her, as if struck to the heart with a mortal fear. But Burroughs, after fetching a breath or two, went back to the door and stood waiting for the voice to be heard again.
What are you?—speak—where are you?
Here I be, said the invisible creature.
And who are you—what are you? cried Burroughs running up to the door, and then to the window, and then to the fire-place, and then back to the window, and preparing to push the slide away—