"Go back. Don't come near me," came the answer, "I pray you let me go."
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING? STOP! STOP!" SHE SAID.
It seemed to Grace that she must yet be dreaming; but despite the warning, she approached closer, holding the candle high above her head. "Where are you going? Stop! Stop!" she said.
"Good-by, good-by, dear sister," was the only answer.
With an effort the door had been thrown open, and a gust of wind blowing coldly in extinguished the candle she was holding.
The door closed softly. Grace stumbled forward. The last thing that was pictured in her mind was that strange left hand reaching and tugging at the massive bolt. Across the back of it she had seen a scar!
It was so black around her that her eyes at first could not find the direction of familiar objects. At last, however, she made out the stairway, and turned toward it, filled with fright at what she had seen.
What did it mean? It was William's hand! And now something was moving, she was sure, over to the left against the wainscoting, and she could hear it scrape: and then she felt as if she heard a breath. It was too much for her tense nerves, and she shrieked aloud—the terrifying woman's scream of fear and horror that starts the strongest nerves.
"'S—'sh—, it's only Cato!" said a voice close to her.