She turned, then, and looked at the wardrobe, still full of Amy's
belongings, with her back to the bed in which Amy had died, without
even the faintest premonitory symptom of the unreasoning terror that
presently seized upon her.
It came about in this way.
She kneeled down, after a careful scrutiny of the polished surface of
the mahogany, pulled out a drawer filled to brimming over with linen
of various kinds and uses, and began to dive among these with careful
housewifely hands to discover their tale. Simultaneously, as she
remembered afterwards, there came from the hill leading down from the
direction of the station, the sound of a trotting horse.
She paused to listen, her mind full of that faint gossipy surmise that
surges so quickly up in the thoughts of village dwellers, her hands
for an instant motionless among the linen. It might be the doctor, or
Mr. Paton, or Mr. Grove. Those names flashed upon her; but an instant
later were drowned again in a kind of fear of which she could give
afterwards no account.
It seemed to her, she said, that there was something coming towards
her that set her a-tremble; and when, a moment later, the trotting
hoofs rang out sharp and near, she positively relapsed into a kind of
sitting position on the floor, helpless and paralyzed by a furious
up-rush of terror.
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