The
only difference was that Mr. Brympton stayed on, instead of going
off as he usually did, and that Mr. Ranford never showed himself. I
heard Mr. Brympton remark on this one afternoon when he was sitting
in my mistress's room before dinner.
"Where's Ranford?" says he. "He hasn't been near the house for a
week. Does he keep away because I'm here?"
Mrs. Brympton spoke so low that I couldn't catch her answer.
"Well," he went on, "two's company and three's trumpery; I'm sorry
to be in Ranford's way, and I suppose I shall have to take myself
off again in a day or two and give him a show." And he laughed at
his own joke.
The very next day, as it happened, Mr. Ranford called. The footman
said the three were very merry over their tea in the library, and
Mr. Brympton strolled down to the gate with Mr. Ranford when he
left.
I have said that things went on as usual; and so they did with the
rest of the household; but as for myself, I had never been the same
since the night my bell had rung. Night after night I used to lie
awake, listening for it to ring again, and for the door of the
locked room to open stealthily. But the bell never rang, and I heard
no sound across the passage. At last the silence began to be more
dreadful to me than the most mysterious sounds. I felt that
_someone_ were cowering there, behind the locked door, watching and
listening as I watched and listened, and I could almost have cried
out, "Whoever you are, come out and let me see you face to face, but
don't lurk there and spy on me in the darkness!"
Feeling as I did, you may wonder I didn't give warning.
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