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The figure stood quite still, and so did she; not boldly, but of
necessity; for going back into the room was hardly less terrible than
going on.
The rain beat fast and furiously without, and ran down in plashing
streams from the thatched roof. Some summer insect, with no escape
into the air, flew blindly to and fro, beating its body against the walls
and ceiling, and filling the silent place with murmurs. The figure
moved again. The child involuntarily did the same. Once in her
grandfather's room, she would be safe.
It crept along the passage until it came to the very door she longed so
ardently to reach. The child, in the agony of being so near, had almost
darted forward with the design of bursting into the room and closing it
behind her, when the figure stopped again.
The idea flashed suddenly upon her - what if it entered there, and had
a design upon the old man's life! She turned faint and sick. It did. It
went in. There was a light inside. The figure was now within the
chamber, and she, still dumb - quite dumb, and almost senseless -
stood looking on.
The door was partly open. Not knowing what she meant to do, but
meaning to preserve him or be killed herself, she staggered forward
and looked in.
What sight was that which met her view!
The bed had not been lain on, but was smooth and empty. And at a
table sat the old man himself; the only living creature there; his white
face pinched and sharpened by the greediness which made his eyes
unnaturally bright - counting the money of which his hands had
robbed her.
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