From this point she looked over a grassy slope, towards the trees
which shadowed Bale Water. But her eye could discern nothing save
outlines against the starry heaven. All the ground before her lay in
a wide-spreading hollow, and darkness cloaked it.
Again she crouched down, pressing her hand against her heart,
listening. It was a very still night, and few sounds disturbed its
peacefulness. Somewhere, far off, a cart rumbled along; presently
one of the Polterham clocks began to strike, faintly but clearly.
That caused her to look in the direction of the town; she saw the
radiance of lights, and thought of what was going on over there--
the shouting, rushing, fighting.
A night-insect buzzed against her, and, almost in the same moment,
there came from down in the hollow, from beyond the trees, a sound
which chilled her blood, stopped the wild beating of her heart. It
seemed to echo with dreadful clearness from end to end of the
heavens. A dull splash of water, that was all; in reality, scarcely
to be heard at this distance save by an ear straining in dreadful
expectation.
She made one effort to rise, but could not. Another, and she was
fleeing back to the cottage as if chased for her life.
The back-door was locked; she had to go round into the garden, and
there the servant was waiting.
"Have you found her, m'm?"
"No--I can't think--go in, Annie.
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