'No, no,' she returned hastily. 'Such visitors have never come to this
poor dwelling. Do you stay here. You're within call, at the worst. I
would rather go myself--alone.'

'Why?' said the locksmith, unwillingly relinquishing the candle he had
caught up from the table.

'Because--I don't know why--because the wish is so strong upon me,' she
rejoined. 'There again--do not detain me, I beg of you!'

Gabriel looked at her, in great surprise to see one who was usually so
mild and quiet thus agitated, and with so little cause. She left the
room and closed the door behind her. She stood for a moment as if
hesitating, with her hand upon the lock. In this short interval the
knocking came again, and a voice close to the window--a voice the
locksmith seemed to recollect, and to have some disagreeable association
with--whispered 'Make haste.'

The words were uttered in that low distinct voice which finds its way so
readily to sleepers' ears, and wakes them in a fright. For a moment
it startled even the locksmith; who involuntarily drew back from the
window, and listened.

The wind rumbling in the chimney made it difficult to hear what passed,
but he could tell that the door was opened, that there was the tread of
a man upon the creaking boards, and then a moment's silence--broken by a
suppressed something which was not a shriek, or groan, or cry for help,
and yet might have been either or all three; and the words 'My God!'
uttered in a voice it chilled him to hear.