Page:Magdalen by J S Machar.pdf/18

 wizened hands unfolded themselves from their attitude of prayer and smoothed her hair,—and the old woman disappeared from the window.

Some one had just entered the house. With sure steps he walked up the creaking staircase, touched the bell at one of the doors, stepped in, and crossed a small ante-chamber. There stood the pious woman of the dormer window: “Ah!” and she gave him her hand. He pressed it with the tips of his fingers. With her other hand the woman opened a door, and she began to tell him things,—a senseless chaos,—but her guest, without saying a word, stepped into the opened apartment, though it was merged in darkness.

“I should sooner have expected death today, than you,” proceeded the old woman’s hoarse voice. “How many weeks have passed since you last honored us with your visit? Why, ’tis half a year! Just dreadful! Your acquaintances told me that you