"Suppose it burns in an upper
window, and the family is going to bed, as would be likely at this
hour"--the apprehension kept my eyes fixed on the bright spot, to the
frequent scandal of my legs, that within five minutes were stuck full
of gorse-prickles.
But the light did not go out, and soon a flicker of moonlight gave me
a glimpse of the house's outline. It proved to be a deal more imposing
than I looked for--the outline, in fact, of a tall-square barrack
with a cluster of chimneys at either end, like ears, and a high
wall, topped by the roofs of some outbuildings, concealing the lower
windows. There was no gate in this wall, and presently I guessed the
reason. I was approaching the place from behind, and the light came
from a back window on the first floor.
The faintness of the light also was explained by this time. It shone
behind a drab-colored blind, and in shape resembled the stem of a
wine-glass, broadening out at the foot--an effect produced by the
half-drawn curtains within. I came to a halt, waiting for the next
ray of moonlight. At the same moment a rush of wind swept over the
chimney-stacks, and on the wind there seemed to ride a human sigh.
On this last point I may err. The gust had passed some seconds before
I caught myself detecting this peculiar note, and trying to disengage
it from the natural chords of the storm.
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