he? What a curious experience: to be sitting alone in a big house--she
knew that the cook had stolen out--waiting for Death to come and snatch
her husband from her. No; he would not snatch, he would steal upon his
prey as noiselessly as the approach of Sin to Innocence--an invisible,
unfair, sneaking enemy, with whom no man's strength could grapple. If he
would only come like a man, and take his chances like a man! Women had
been known to reach the hearts of giants with the dagger's point. But he
would creep upon her.

She gave an exclamation of horror. Something was creeping over the
window-sill. Her limbs palsied, but she struggled to her feet and looked
back, her eyes dragged about against her own volition. Two small green
stars glared menacingly at her just above the sill; then the cat
possessing them leaped downward, and the stars disappeared.

She realized that she was horribly frightened. "Is it possible?" she
thought. "Am I afraid of Death, and of Death that has not yet come? I
have always been rather a brave woman; _He_ used to call me heroic; but
then with him it was impossible to fear anything. And I begged them to
leave me alone with him as the last of earthly boons. Oh, shame!"

But she was still quaking as she resumed her seat, and laid her hand
again on his heart. She wished that she had asked Mary to sit outside
the door; there was no bell in the room. To call would be worse than
desecrating the house of God, and she would not leave him for one
moment. To return and find him dead--gone alone!

Her knees smote each other. It was idle to deny it; she was in a state
of unreasoning terror. Her eyes rolled apprehensively about; she
wondered if she should see It when It came; wondered how far off It was