Who spoke? Had any one spoken? Was there any sound in the air at
all? She heard none, yet the sense of sound was in her ear, as
though it had been and passed. When the glance she threw about her
came back to her outstretched hand, she knew that the cry, if cry
it were, had been within, and that the echoes of the room had
remained undisturbed. The knife was lying open on her palm, and
from one of the blades the end had been nipped, just enough of it
to match--
Was she mad! She thought so for a moment; then she laid down the
knife close against the cap and contemplated them both for more
minutes than she ever reckoned.
And the stillness, which had been profound, became deeper yet. Not
even Reuther's clock sounded its small note.
The candle fluttering low in its socket roused her at last from
her abstraction. Catching up the two articles which had so
enthralled her, she restored the one to the closet, the other to
the drawer, and, with swift but silent step, regained her own room
where she buried her head in her pillow, weeping and praying until
the morning light, breaking in upon her grief, awoke her to the
obligations of her position and the necessity of silence
concerning all the experiences of this night.
XVII
UNWELCOME TRUTHS
Silence. Yes, silence was the one and only refuge remaining to
her. Yet, after a few days, the constant self-restraint which it
entailed, ate like a canker into her peace, and undermined a
strength which she had always considered inexhaustible.
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