She noticed that her stock of wood was running low, and with a mighty
effort of the will she opened the door to bring in some from a pile in
the yard. Stopping a minute to muster up her courage, she waited at the
open door. Suddenly the weird cry of a wolf came up from the creek
bank, and it was a bitter, lonely, insistent cry.
She slammed the door, and coming back into the room, sank weak and
trembling into a chair. A horror grew upon her until the beads of
perspiration stood upon her face. Her hands grew numb and useless, and
the skin of her head seemed stiff and frozen. Her ears were strained to
catch any sound, and out of the silence there came many strange noises
to torment her overstrained senses.
She thought of Mrs. Corbett at the Stopping-House, and tried to muster
courage to walk the distance, but a terrible fear held her to the spot.
The fire died out, and the room grew colder and colder, but huddled in
a chair in a panic of fear she did not notice the cold. Her teeth
chattered; spots of light danced before her tightly-shut eyes. She did
not know what she was afraid of; a terrible nameless fear seemed to be
clutching at her very heart. It was the living, waking counterpart of
the nightmare that had made horrible her childhood nights--a gripping,
overwhelming fear of what might happen.
Suddenly something burst into the room--the terrible something that she
had been waiting for. The silence broke into a thousand screaming
voices.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57