Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing,。， 'Who could want me?' I asked inwardly, as with both hands Iturned the stiff door-handle, which, for a second or two, resistedmy efforts. 'What should I see besides Aunt Reed in the apartment?-a man or a woman?' The handle turned, the door unclosed, and passingthrough and curtseying low, I looked up at- a black pillar!- such,at least, appeared to me, at first sight, the straight, narrow,sable-clad shape standing erect on the rug: the grim face at the topwas like a carved mask, placed above the shaft by way of capital.
I stood and warmed my numbed fingers over the blaze, then Ilooked round; there was no candle, but the uncertain light from thehearth showed, by intervals, papered walls, carpet, curtains,shining mahogany furniture: it was a parlour, not so spacious orsplendid as the drawing-room at Gateshead, but comfortable enough. Iwas puzzling to make out the subject of a picture on the wall, whenthe door opened, and an individual carrying a light entered; anotherfollowed close behind.。，
。， THE next thing I remember is, waking up with a feeling as if Ihad had a frightful nightmare, and seeing before me a terrible redglare, crossed with thick black bars. I heard voices, too, speakingwith a hollow sound, and as if muffled by a rush of wind or water:agitation, uncertainty, and an all-predominating sense of terrorconfused my faculties. Ere long, I became aware that some one washandling me; lifting me up and supporting me in a sitting posture, andthat more tenderly than I had ever been raised or upheld before. Irested my head against a pillow or an arm, and felt easy.
。， 'But it was always in her,' was the reply. 'I've told Missisoften my opinion about the child, and Missis agreed with me. She'san underhand little thing: I never saw a girl of her age with somuch cover.'