embled at each beating of the bell. The last one sounded, and left an echo. I thought, ''That''s it.''—And, as I thought it, I heard the soft thud of her boots—she was at the door, her face pale in the darkness, her breaths coming quick as a cat''s.
''Forgive me, Sue!'' she said. ''I went to my uncle''s library. I wanted to see it, a final time. But I couldn''t go until I knew he was asleep.''
She shivered. I pictured her, pale and slight and silent, alone among those dark books. ''Never mind,'' I said. ''But, we must be quick. Come here, come on.''
I gave her her cloak, and fastened up mine. She looked about her, at all she was leaving. Her teeth began to chatter. I gave her the lightest bag. Then I stood before her and put a finger to her mouth.
''Now, be steady,'' I said.
All my nervousness had left me, and I was suddenly calm. I thought of my mother, and all the dark and sleeping houses she
must have stolen her way through, before they caught her. The bad blood rose in me, just like wine.
We went by the servants'' stairs. I had been carefully up and down them the day before, looking for the steps that particularly creaked; now I led her over them, holding her hand, and watching where she placed her feet. At the start of the corridor where there were the doors to the kitchen and to Mrs Stiles''s pantry, I made her stop and wait and listen. She kept her hand in mine. A mouse ran, quick, along the wainscot; but there was no other movement, and no sounds from anywhere. The floor had drugget on it, that softened our shoes. Only our skirts went rustle and swish.