Gothic fiction; Guardian and ward -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
She did not mean to move the wardrobe, but it was so natural just to try
how heavy it was, and if it would really stir! And to her surprise and
guilty pleasure, the wardrobe, lightened of its weighty contents,
yielded to her touch, and moved a little--a very little--way forward;
but enough to show to her eager eyes, in the dark wood-work, a door,
over which generations of painstaking spiders had spun their webs
unchecked, and where the scourge of Mrs. Roberts' eye had failed, or
feared to penetrate. Kitty, holding her breath for fear, turned the
knob; it resisted; it was locked, of course, possibly on the outside,
and the key might have been taken out. An expedient struck the child's
fertile brain; and she darted across the hall, and, possessing herself
of the key of the corresponding room, darted back again and applied it
to the lock. It fitted, and turned in it; the knob yielded to her eager
grasp, and, too near the completion of her wishes now to pause, she
wound her lithe figure through the narrow aperture, and pushing open the
door, stood within the mysterious room! For a moment, Kitty's heart beat
quick; an awe crept over her; for a moment she longed to be out in the
sunshine again. But her elastic spirits and indomitable curiosity soon
triumphed over the transitory dread inspired by the darkness and
solemnity of the deserted chamber, and the close, dead atmosphere, and
the unearthly stillness; and, gaining courage every moment, she made her
way, with what caution she might, toward the window, undid the
fastening, and, pushing up a very little way the heavy sash, turned the
blind, and let in a ray of God's blessed sunlight, dim and dull enough,
though, through the dusty panes, into this strange room, deserted these
many, many years, it would seem, both of God and man. Kitty was a bold
child, little given to nervousness or timidity, or she would have shrunk
in terror from the weird, fantastic shadows that the dim light showed
about the room. But that was not Kitty's way; and, sitting down on a
divan by the window, she rested her elbows on her knees and her chin
upon her hands, in contemplative fashion, and proceeded to look about
her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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