The truth is, I was not quite myself. I was
depressed in mind by my disappointment of the morning; and I was worn out
in body by my long walk. Between the two, I own I couldn't face the
prospect of lying awake in the darkness, listening to the dismal moan of
the wind in the wood.
Sleep stole on me before I was aware of it; my eyes closed, and I fell off
to rest, without having so much as thought of extinguishing the candle.
The next thing that I remember was a faint shivering that ran through me
from head to foot, and a dreadful sinking pain at my heart, such as I had
never felt before. The shivering only disturbed my slumbers--the pain woke
me instantly. In one moment I passed from a state of sleep to a state of
wakefulness--my eyes wide open--my mind clear on a sudden as if by a
miracle. The candle had burned down nearly to the last morsel of tallow,
but the unsnuffed wick had just fallen off, and the light was, for the
moment, fair and full.
Between the foot of the bed and the closet door, I saw a person in my
room. The person was a woman, standing looking at me, with a knife in her
hand. It does no credit to my courage to confess it--but the truth _is_
the truth. I was struck speechless with terror. There I lay with my eyes
on the woman; there the woman stood (with the knife in her hand) with
_her_ eyes on _me_.
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