She shuddered. Why should the dead hand tap at her door? Yet there it
was tapping louder, louder. . . . She struggled, she tried to cry
out, then suddenly she grew quiet, and the tapping got fainter and
fainter--her eyes opened: she was awake.

For an instant she did not know where she was. Was it a dream still?
For there was a tapping, tapping at her door--no, it was at the window.
A shiver ran through her from head to foot. Her heart almost stopped
beating. Some one was calling to her.

"Guida! Guida!"

It was Philip's voice. Her cheek had been cold the moment before; now
she felt the blood tingling in her face. She slid to the floor, threw a
shawl round her, and went to the casement.

The tapping began again. For a moment she could not open the window.
She was trembling from head to foot. Philip's voice reassured her a
little.

"Guida, Guida, open the window a moment."

She hesitated. She could not--no--she could not do it. He tapped still
louder.

"Guida, don't you hear me?" he asked.

She undid the catch, but she had hardly the courage even yet. He heard
her now, and pressed the window a little. Then she opened it slowly, and