Page:The Father Confessor, Stories of Danger and Death.djvu/388

378 claws clung tearing at her. She struck it, but it fell upon her, scratching, kicking, biting. To protect her eyes as long as possible from its ferocious rage she flung her head back sharply, striking it a terrible blow upon something that rendered her unconscious. When she woke she was lying on the floor completely dressed, the dawn shining in soft and fair through the open window, the first song of the birds coming to her upon the sweet early breeze. She sat up and gazed around, astonished and still terrified. "My God!" she said, "what a dream!—what a dream!" She went to the window trembling, and leaned out into the light, and as she did so the memory of the evening before came to her. She had put Tom into Miss Marlow's room. Was this what her dream meant? Was this dream an acting reality in the haunted room? What had happened there?

She rushed along the passage and stopped at the door. What would she see or hear there?

She listened for a moment, and heard no sound, and then, with a beating heart, shook the handle. "Millie, are you asleep? Millie, it is I, Beatrix." Her voice came in a hoarse whisper, but there was no answer or sound from within.