Those following eyes, so persistent in their stare, annoyed Floy, and gave her the same creepy chill down her back that she had felt when the mice scurried over the piano keys.
She could not resist a sudden longing to escape from the room, and from the grim scrutiny of her pictured ancestors.
Taking the lamp in her hand, she started out to explore the house.
Hurrying along the draughty hall, and in and out of the musty old rooms familiar to her childhood, the girl tried to dispel the shadow that began to fall on her spirits like an ominous cloud.
Presently, over the roar of the storm outside, her voice rang out in a loud, wild, terrified shriek thrice repeated—then awful silence.
CHAPTER VII.
AT THE DREAD HOUR OF MIDNIGHT.
Half an hour passed by slowly.
The storm was over.
The lightning, thunder, and rain had ceased, and the moon was coming out from the black wrack of clouds where she had hidden her glory.