isolation which was so impossible to her at other hours. She sat rapt in
that laborious quiet as if her busy fingers were under some spell.
When suddenly she heard a startled motion up-stairs, as if some one
had got up hastily; then a rustling about the room overhead, which was
Susan's room. After a while, during which Nettie, restored by the sound
to all her growing cares, rose instantly to consideration of the question,
What had happened now? the door above was stealthily opened, and a
footstep came softly down the stair. Nettie put down her work and
listened breathlessly. Presently Susan's head peeped in at the parlour
door. After all, then, it was only some restlessness of Susan's. Nettie
took up her work, impatient, perhaps almost disappointed, with the dead
calm in which nothing ever happened. Susan came in stealthy, pale,
trembling with cold and fright. She came forward to the table in her
white night-dress like a faded ghost. "Fred has never come in," said
Susan, in a shivering whisper; "is it very late? He promised he would
only be gone an hour. Where _can_ he have gone? Nettie, Nettie, don't
sit so quiet and stare at me. I fell asleep, or I should have found it
out sooner; all the house is locked up, and he has never come in."
"If he comes we can unlock the house," said Nettie. "When did he go out,
and why didn't you tell me? Of course I should have let Mrs Smith know,
not to frighten her; but I told Fred pretty plainly last time that we
could not do with such hours. It will make him ill if he does not mind.
Go to bed, and I'll let him in."
"Go to bed! it is very easy for you to say so; don't you know it's the
middle of the night, and as dark as pitch, and my husband out all by
himself?" cried Susan. "Oh, Fred, Fred! after all the promises you made,
to use me like this again! Do you think I can go up-stairs and lie
shivering in the dark, and imagining all sorts of dreadful things
happening to him? I shall stay here with you till he comes in."
Nettie entered into no controversy. She got up quietly and fetched a
shawl and put it round her shivering sister; then sat down again and
took up her needlework. But Susan's excited nerves could not bear the
sight of that occupation. The rustle of Nettie's softly-moving hand
distracted her. "It sounds always like Fred's step on the way," said the
fretful anxious woman. "Oh, Nettie, Nettie! do open the end window and
look out; perhaps he is looking for the light in the windows to guide
him straight! It is so dark! Open the shutters, Nettie, and, oh, do look
out and see! Where do you suppose he can have gone to? I feel such a
pang at my heart, I believe I shall die."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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