Part 24 (1/2)

”'Thank you, Mrs. Atkins,' said Mary, 'that will do nicely, I am sure.

And now we must really not keep you any longer from your husband.

Good-night, and thank you very much.'

”'Good-night,' I repeated, and we both stood at the door of the pa.s.sage as she made her way out into the darkness. The snow was still falling very heavily, and the blast of cold wind that made its way in was piercing.

”'Oh, Mary, come back to the fire,' I cried. 'Isn't it _awfully_ cold?

Oh, Mary dear,' I added, when we had both crouched down beside the welcome warmth for a moment, 'won't it be _delicious_ to be back with mother again? We never thought we'd have such adventures, did we? Can you fancy this house ever feeling _home-y_, Mary? It seems so dreary now.'

”'Yes, but you've no idea how different it will seem even to-morrow morning, if it's a bright day,' said Mary. 'Let's plan the rooms, Laura.

Don't you think the one to the south with the crimson curtains will be best for father?'

”So she talked cheerfully, more, I am sure--though I did not see it at the time--to encourage me than to amuse herself. And after awhile, when she saw that I was getting sleepy, she took a candle into the outer room, saying she would lock the door and make all snug for the night. I heard her, as I thought, lock the door, then she came back into our room and also locked the door leading from it into the tapestry room.

”'You needn't lock that too,' I said sleepily; 'if the tapestry door is locked, we're all right!'

”'I think it's better,' said Mary quietly, and then we undressed, so far as we could manage to do so in the extremely limited state of our toilet arrangements, and went to bed.

”I fell asleep at once. Mary, she afterwards told me, lay awake for an hour or two, so that when she did fall asleep her slumber was unusually profound. I think it must have been about midnight when I woke suddenly, with the feeling--the indescribable feeling--that something had awakened me. I listened, first of all with _only_ the ear that happened to be uppermost--then, as my courage gradually returned again, I ventured to move slightly, so that both ears were uncovered. No, nothing was to be heard. I was trying to compose myself to sleep again, persuading myself that I had been dreaming, when again--yes most distinctly--there _was_ a sound. A sort of shuffling, sc.r.a.ping noise, which seemed to come from the direction of the pa.s.sage leading from the tapestry room to the garden. Fear made me selfish. I pushed Mary, then shook her gently, then more vigorously.

”'Mary,' I whispered. 'Oh, Mary, _do_ wake up. I hear such a queer noise.'

”Mary, poor Mary awoke, but she had been very tired. It was a moment or two before she collected her faculties.

”'Where are we? What is it?' she said. Then she remembered. 'Oh yes--what is the matter, Laura?'

”'Listen,' I said, and Mary, calmly self-controlled as usual, sat up in bed and listened. The sound was quite distinct, even louder than I had heard it.

”'Oh, Mary!' I cried. 'Somebody's trying to get in. Oh, Mary, what _shall_ we do? Oh, I am so frightened. I shall die with fright. Oh, I wish I had never come!'

”I was on the verge of hysterics, or something of the kind.

”Mary, herself a little frightened, as she afterwards confessed--in the circ.u.mstances what young girl could have helped being so?--turned to me quietly. Something in the very tone of her voice seemed to soothe me.

”'Laura dear,' she said gravely, 'did you say your prayers last night?'

”'Oh yes, oh yes, indeed I did. But I'll say them again now if you like,'

I exclaimed.

”Even then, Mary could hardly help smiling.

”'That isn't what I meant,' she said. 'I mean, what is the _good_ of saying your prayers if you don't believe what you say?'

”'But I do, I do,' I sobbed.

”'Then why are you so terrified? You asked G.o.d to take care of you. When you said it you believed He would. Why not believe it now? _Now_, when you are tried, is the time to show if you do mean what you say. I am sure G.o.d _will_ take care of us. Now try, dear, to be reasonable, and I will get up and see what it is.'

”'But don't leave me, and I will try to be good,' I exclaimed, jumping out of bed at the same moment that she did, and clinging to her as she moved. 'Oh, Mary, don't you think perhaps we'd better go back to bed and put our fingers in our ears, and by morning it wouldn't seem anything.'

”'And fancy ever after that there had been something mysterious, when perhaps it is something quite simple,' said Mary. 'No, I shouldn't like that at all. Of course I won't do anything rash, but I would like to find out.'