Page:The German Novelists (Volume 2).djvu/387

Rh happen to call to mind one of your prettiest ditties sing it for me, my dear.”

Margery smiled and nodded her head, at the same time beginning to spin in right earnest, but no pretty song seemed to rise up in her trembling little heart. She seemed rather to anticipate from her looks, though the streets were again quiet, that there was yet something strangely unusual and dismal in the approaching night that weighed heavier and heavier on her mind. Nor were her forebodings felt without reason, for just then they heard heavy footsteps pacing backwards and forwards in the room above them, the same which was occupied by the old lodger who had not yet returned home, and of which he always carried the key about him, being extremely jealous of any one entering it in his absence. At times, too, they thought they heard a fearful sobbing, and sighing, almost like that of a man dying of great pain. Margaret raised up her hands, as if directing her grandfather to the spot, but said not a word, while he went and took down his old broad sword hanging on the wall, then prayed a few moments within himself, and lastly went towards the door.

“Dearest grandfather, my own best grand-papa,” whispered Margaret, “take me with you then! for whatever terrible there may be, it cannot be half so agonizing as I should imagine, were I to be left here