She sprang out of bed, turned up the gas, put on her pretty flannel dressing gown and woollen shoes, drew up a comfortable easy-chair, and then remembered that she had left all her books and papers downstairs, in the little room opening out of the hall where she and Julia prepared their lessons.
"Never mind, I can get it without disturbing any one," she said, as she lighted a bedroom candle and crept downstairs very softly in her woollen shoes, shading the candle as she passed the bedroom doors that the light might not be seen.
The house was very still and quiet: not a sound was to be heard but the ticking of the great clock in the hall. Ruth did not look at it, she did not care to know the time, for she was sure it was very late. The little study looked cold and desolate by the light of her solitary candle, and the ashes in the grate still moved and made a slight rustling which sounded very plainly. Ruth had just gathered up her books and papers when the hall clock struck close to her, one long solemn stroke.
One o'clock! It was very late she owned, and very lonely down there.
Hark! what was that? Surely the clock was striking again. No, it was a different sound and came from the front-door. Some person was evidently trying to open it. Ruth's heart stood still. All the terrible stories she had ever heard of burglars and midnight robberies came to her mind, and at the same time the unpleasant conviction that she had stepped aside from the path of duty and thus brought herself into danger.
Her presence of mind was quite gone. She feared that her candle might attract attention, but dared not extinguish it and be alone in the dark with—she knew not whom. Holding her breath she stood for a moment gazing fixedly towards the door. It was opened softly and cautiously, and the figure of a man entered the hall and carefully fastened the bolts of the door. Ruth was too terrified to scream, and as the light of her candle fell upon his face she suddenly recognised her cousin—Gerald.
He started when he saw the light and his little cousin's scared pale face, and exclaimed, "What is the matter, Ruth?"
"Oh, Gerald, how you have frightened me!" she said, trembling violently. "Where have you been?"
"What are you doing here?" he asked, evading her question.
"I couldn't sleep, and came down to fetch my books, and I—I heard you at the door, and thought you were a burglar."