"
Tabitha made no answer, and to avoid the anxious inquiring gaze of her
sister, drew her chair to the fire, and folding her gaunt arms, composed
herself for a nap.
For some time life went on quietly in the old house. The room of the
dead woman, in accordance with her last desire, was kept firmly locked,
its dirty windows forming a strange contrast to the prim cleanliness of
the others. Tabitha, never very talkative, became more taciturn than
ever, and stalked about the house and the neglected garden like an
unquiet spirit, her brow roughened into the deep wrinkles suggestive of
much thought. As the winter came on, bringing with it the long dark
evenings, the old house became more lonely than ever, and an air of
mystery and dread seemed to hang over it and brood in its empty rooms
and dark corridors. The deep silence of night was broken by strange
noises for which neither the wind nor the rats could be held
accountable. Old Martha, seated in her distant kitchen, heard strange
sounds upon the stairs, and once, upon hurrying to them, fancied that
she saw a dark figure squatting upon the landing, though a subsequent
search with candle and spectacles failed to discover anything.
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