. And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Had he found the secret door? Running to the centre, she tried to judge where the knocking came from. Jack turned away with an aching heart. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. " "Hadn't you better hold a moment's parley with the gentlemen before proceeding to extremities?" suggested Jonathan. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t.
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