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VII. The Night of the Sixth of November

           “Eustacia!”herepeatedlouder,“thereisaletteronthemantelpieceforyou.”

           Butnoresponsewasmadetothisstatementsaveanimaginaryonefromthewind,whichseemedtognawatthecornersofthehouse,andthestrokeofafewdropsofrainuponthewindows.

           Hewentontothelanding,andstoodwaitingnearlyfiveminutes.Stillshedidnotreturn.Hewentbackforalight,andpreparedtofollowher;butfirsthelookedintoherbedroom.There,ontheoutsideofthequilt,wastheimpressionofherform,showingthatthebedhadnotbeenopened;and,whatwasmoresignificant,shehadnottakenhercandlestickdownstairs.Hewasnowthoroughlyalarmed;andhastilyputtingonhisclotheshedescendedtothefrontdoor,whichhehimselfhadboltedandlocked.Itwasnowunfastened.TherewasnolongeranydoubtthatEustaciahadleftthehouseatthismidnighthour;andwhithercouldshehavegone?Tofollowherwasalmostimpossible.Hadthedwellingstoodinanordinaryroad,twopersonssettingout,oneineachdirection,mighthavemadesureofovertakingher;butitwasahopelesstasktoseekforanybodyonaheathinthedark,thepracticabledirectionsforflightacrossitfromanypointbeingasnumerousasthemeridiansradiatingfromthepole.Perplexedwhattodo,helookedintotheparlour,andwasvexedtofindthattheletterstilllaythereuntouched.

           Athalf-pasteleven,findingthatthehousewassilent,Eustaciahadlightedhercandle,putonsomewarmouterwrappings,takenherbaginherhand,and,extinguishingthelightagain,descendedthestaircase.

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