Martha, roused by the cry, and shivering with dread, rushed to the door
and gazed in terror at the figure which stood leaning over the bedside.
As she watched, it slowly removed the cowl and the napkin and exposed
the fell face of Tabitha, so strangely contorted between fear and
triumph that she hardly recognized it.

"Who's there?" cried Tabitha in a terrible voice as she saw the old
woman's shadow on the wall.

"I thought I heard a cry," said Martha, entering. "Did anybody call?"

"Yes, Eunice," said the other, regarding her closely. "I, too, heard
the cry, and hurried to her. What makes her so strange? Is she in a
trance?"

"Ay," said the old woman, falling on her knees by the bed and sobbing
bitterly, "the trance of death. Ah, my dear, my poor lonely girl, that
this should be the end of it! She has died of fright," said the old
woman, pointing to the eyes, which even yet retained their horror. "She
has seen something devilish."

Tabitha's gaze fell. "She has always suffered with her heart," she
muttered; "the night has frightened her; it frightened me."

She stood upright by the foot of the bed as Martha drew the sheet over
the face of the dead woman.

"First Ursula, then Eunice," said Tabitha, drawing a deep breath. "I
can't stay here. I'll dress and wait for the morning."