As I drew nearer, and she read on, she moved a little to turn a
leaf of the dark old volume, and I saw that her face was sallow
and slightly forbidding. Her forehead was high, and her black
eyes repressedly quiet. But she took no notice of me. This end
of the cottage, if cottage it could be called, was destitute of
furniture, except the table with the lamp, and the chair on which
the woman sat. In one corner was a door, apparently of a
cupboard in the wall, but which might lead to a room beyond.
Still the irresistible desire which had made me enter the
building urged me: I must open that door, and see what was
beyond it. I approached, and laid my hand on the rude latch.
Then the woman spoke, but without lifting her head or looking at
me: "You had better not open that door." This was uttered quite
quietly; and she went on with her reading, partly in silence,
partly aloud; but both modes seemed equally intended for herself
alone. The prohibition, however, only increased my desire to
see; and as she took no further notice, I gently opened the door
to its full width, and looked in. At first, I saw nothing worthy
of attention. It seemed a common closet, with shelves on each
hand, on which stood various little necessaries for the humble
uses of a cottage. In one corner stood one or two brooms, in
another a hatchet and other common tools; showing that it was in
use every hour of the day for household purposes. But, as I
looked, I saw that there were no shelves at the back, and that an
empty space went in further; its termination appearing to be a
faintly glimmering wall or curtain, somewhat less, however, than
the width and height of the doorway where I stood. But, as I
continued looking, for a few seconds, towards this faintly
luminous limit, my eyes came into true relation with their
object. All at once, with such a shiver as when one is suddenly