participation in the common distress. The house of which I was in quest
quickly appeared. Light from an upper window indicated that it was still
inhabited.

I paused a moment to reflect in what manner it became me to proceed. To
ascertain the existence and condition of Wallace was the purpose of my
journey. He had inhabited this house; and whether he remained in it was
now to be known. I felt repugnance to enter, since my safety might, by
entering, be unawares and uselessly endangered. Most of the neighbouring
houses were apparently deserted. In some there were various tokens of
people being within. Might I not inquire, at one of these, respecting
the condition of Thetford's family? Yet why should I disturb them by
inquiries so impertinent at this unseasonable hour? To knock at
Thetford's door, and put my questions to him who should obey the signal,
was the obvious method.

I knocked dubiously and lightly. No one came. I knocked again, and more
loudly; I likewise drew the bell. I distinctly heard its distant peals.
If any were within, my signal could not fail to be noticed. I paused,
and listened, but neither voice nor footsteps could be heard. The light,
though obscured by window-curtains, which seemed to be drawn close, was
still perceptible.

I ruminated on the causes that might hinder my summons from being
obeyed. I figured to myself nothing but the helplessness of disease, or
the insensibility of death. These images only urged me to persist in
endeavouring to obtain admission. Without weighing the consequences of
my act, I involuntarily lifted the latch. The door yielded to my hand,
and I put my feet within the passage.