Presently Uncle George left for good, taking the vicar with him. The servants came to bed, giggling under their breath; then all was still.
I did not leave the window, but in the silence—there being now no sound to arrest my attention, save the chimes which I forgot to hear—a change came over me. I fell into a sort of dream; scene after scene the past rose before me in bright visions; then came the present, chaos. I stood, as it were, in the centre of nothingness, alone and lost, not a sound, not a light, not a finger to touch.
“What matter,” thought I,—“what matter if I live or die? Surely it is in this state that people kill themselves.”
I heard the chimes again, and a duck quacked in the pond; it was as the laugh of a devil.
I turned from the window and stumbled over something; I lighted a candle, and sat shivering on the shrouded bed.
“Two o’clock,” thought I; “it is very cold. What shall I do? Shall I sleep or die?”
And, as it were with a flash, there came to me the thought that perhaps I was not the only one who sat at this moment coldly contemplating death. An awful fear seized me that perhaps he, Gabriel, might be driven to the haven of despairers.
I threw on my cloak, and, carrying my shoes, slowly and breathlessly crept down the stairs to the back door, which had a light fastening. And I ran across garden and park, across Graysmill Heath in the night, strengthened by one fear against all others, nor did I stop until I stood on the little hillock within sight of the Thatched Cottage.
I saw at once that a light was burning in the window of Gabriel’s old room. I sprang on and halted once more on the grass-patch before the Cottage door. The blind was down, a shadow passed to and fro. I could see very well by the way he moved that he was not calm. I wanted to get to him. I tried the house door, but it was firmly fastened. I sat down on the ground and kept my eyes fixed on the window. He stooped repeatedly; once, as he swept the hair back from his eyes, I thought I saw that he held something in his hand. I picked up a stone, ready to throw it at the window, but my courage failed me; then I noticed that the light flickered strangely, as from fire; it faded, and all was dark.
I strained my ears in vain for a sound; a horrible fear seized me. I flung my little stone, but it was very dark; I heard it strike the bricks. Groping for more, I flung another, and yet another. One of them struck the panes; I stood and held my breath,—no sound.