From the village above the hill came the stroke of a single bell; a
bird in the garden-walk beyond the paling chirped softly to his mate;
then once more silence came down upon the moonlit street, the striped
shadows, the tall house and trees, and the bearded face watching at
the window.
_Chapter XVII_
I
The little inner hall looked very quiet and familiar as Maggie
Deronnais stood on the landing, passing through her last struggle with
herself before the shock of battle. The stairs went straight down,
with the old carpet, up and down which she had gone a thousand times,
with every faint patch and line where it was a little worn at the
edges, visible in the lamplight from overhead; and she stared at
these, standing there silent in her white dress, bare-armed and
bare-necked, with her hair in great coils on her head, as upright as a
lance. Beneath lay the little hall, with the tiger-skin, the
red-papered walls, and a few miscellaneous things--an old cloak of
hers she used on rainy days in the garden, a straw hat of Laurie's,
and a cap or two, hanging on the pegs opposite. In front was the door
to the outer hall, to the left, that of the smoking-room.
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