That discovery made, she looked to see
what he was doing next. He was leaving the room again, with the basket
of keys in his hand. When her first glance overtook him, he was crossing
the threshold of the door.
Some inscrutable fascination possessed her, some mysterious attraction
drew her after him, in spite of herself. She took up the candle and
followed him mechanically, as if she too were walking in her sleep.
One behind the other, in slow and noiseless progress, they crossed
the Banqueting-Hall. One behind the other, they passed through the
drawing-room, and along the corridor, and up the stairs. She followed
him to his own door. He went in, and shut it behind him softly. She
stopped, and looked toward the truckle-bed. It was pushed aside at the
foot, some little distance away from the bedroom door. Who had moved it?
She held the candle close and looked toward the pillow, with a sudden
curiosity and a sudden doubt.
The truckle-bed was empty.
The discovery startled her for the moment, and for the moment only.
Plain as the inferences were to be drawn from it, she never drew them.
Her mind, slowly recovering the exercise of its faculties, was still
under the influence of the earlier and the deeper impressions produced
on it.
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