But in the midst of her torment she was asleep.
But it was not for long. She wakened with a start and sprang to
her feet shivering. The carriages were still coming and going with
guests for the big house opposite. It could not be late, though
she seemed to have been in the place for years--long enough to feel
that it was the hideous centre of the whole earth and all sane and
honest memories were a dream. She thought she would begin to walk
up and down the room.
But a sound she heard at this very instant made her stand stock
still. She had known there would be a sound at last--she had
waited for it all the time--she had known, of course, that it would
come, but she had not even tried to guess whether she would hear
it early or late. It would be the sound of the turning of the
handle of the locked door. It had come. There it was! The click
of the lock first and then the creak of the turned handle!
She went to the window again and stood with her back against it,
so that her body was outlined against the faint light. Would the
person come in the dark, or would he carry a light? Something
began to whirl in her brain. What was the low, pumping thump she
seemed to hear and feel at the same time? It was the awful thumping
of her heart.
The door opened--not stealthily, but quite in the ordinary way.
The person who came in did not move stealthily either.
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