Indeed, that was, at first, my impression,
and I strained my ears to try and ascertain the cause of it. All was,
however, silent. The storm had abated, and the castle and grounds were
wrapped in an almost preternatural hush. The sky had cleared, and the
room was partially illuminated by a broad stream of silvery light that
filtered softly in through the white and tightly drawn blinds. A
feeling that there was something unnatural in the air, that the
stillness was but the prelude to some strange and startling event,
gradually came over me. I strove to reason with myself, to argue that
the feeling was wholly due to the novelty of my surroundings, but my
efforts were fruitless. And soon there stole upon me a sensation to
which I had been hitherto an utter stranger--I became afraid. An
irrepressible tremor pervaded my frame, my teeth chattered, my blood
froze. Obeying an impulse--an impulse I could not resist, I lifted
myself up from the pillows, and, peering fearfully into the shadowy
glow that lay directly in front of me--listened. Why I listened I do
not know, saving that an instinctive spirit prompted me. At first I
could hear nothing, and then, from a direction I could not define,
there came a noise, low, distinct, uninterpretative. It was repeated
in rapid succession, and speedily construed itself into the sound of
mailed footsteps racing up the long flight of stairs at the end of the
corridor leading to my room. Dreading to think what it might be, and
seized with a wild sentiment of self-preservation, I made frantic
endeavours to get out of bed and barricade my door.
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