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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

Do not be afraid; he shall not touch
you."
The steps were coming nearer all the time. A door opened and shut.
Then they were loud--they were coming along the gallery! They
ceased. He was standing up there in the thick darkness!
"Arctura," said a deep, awful voice.
It was that of the earl. Arctura made no answer.
"Dead of fright!" muttered the voice. "All goes well. I will go down
and see. She might have proved as obstinate as the boys' mother!"
Again the steps began. They were coming down the stair. The door at
the foot of it opened. The earl entered a step or two, then stopped.
Through the darkness Donal seemed to know exactly where he stood. He
knew also that he was fumbling for a match, and watched intently for
the first spark. There came a sputter and a gleam, and the match
failed. Ere he could try another, Donal made a swift blow at his
arm. It knocked the box from his hand.
"Ha!" he cried, and there was terror in the cry, "she strikes at me
through the dark!"
Donal kept very still. Arctura kept as still as he. The earl turned
and went away.
"I will bring a candle!" he muttered.
"Now, my lady, we must make haste," said Donal. "Do you mind being
left while I fetch my tools?"
"No--but make haste," she answered.
"I shall be back before him," he returned.
"Be careful you do not meet him," said Arctura.
There was no difficulty now, either in going or returning.


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