At the turn of the staircase she paused, holding the rail and resting for
an instant, the while she listened, ere ascending at a more sedate pace to
a haven of safety more complete in that it would be more remote from the
battle-ground below.
And, resting so, was suddenly chilled through and through with fear, sheer
childish dread of the intangible and unknown terrors that lurked in the
blackness above her. It was as if, rendered supersensitive by strain and
excitement, the quivering filaments of her subconsciousness, like
spiritual tentacles feeling ahead of her, had encountered and recoiled
from a shape of evil, a specter of horror obscene and malign, crouching,
ready to spring, there, in the shadow of night. . . .
And her breath was smothered in her throat and her heart smote so madly
against the frail walls of its cage that they seemed like to burst, while
she stood transfixed, frozen in inaction, limbs stiffening, roots of her
hair stirring, fingers gripping the banister rail until they pained her;
and with eyes that stared wide into the black heart of nothingness, until
the night seemed pricked with evanescent periods of dim fire, peopled with
monstrous and terrible shadows closing about her. . . .
Yet--it was absurd! She must not yield to such puerile superstitions.
There was nothing there. . . .
There _was_ something there . . . something that like an incarnation
of hatred was stalking her. . . .
If only she dared scream! If only she dared turn and fly, back to the
comfort of light and human company!.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187