Evelyn turned away and ran back to her own part of the house.  She hastily barred the door.

The short autumn day was soon over.  The sun broke out from the dull gray mountain of clouds and threw a yellow glare on the colorless field.  She stood by the window watching the light as it faded and paled and died, and then the shades of evening quickly gathered.  Turning again to replenish the fire, the darkness of the room startled her.  There was a shadow under the table like a cave’s mouth.  Unaccustomed sounds smote her ear; the logs in the house creaked uncannily, and when she walked across the floor muffled footfalls seemed to follow her.

She put more wood in the stove and tried to shake off the apprehensions which were choking her.  She lit the lamp and hastily drew down the white cotton blind and pinned it close to keep out the great pitiless staring Outside, which seemed to be peering in at her with a dozen white, mocking, merciless faces.

In the lamp’s dim light the shadows were blacker than ever; the big packing-box threw a shadow on the wall that was as black as the mouth of a tunnel in a mountain.

She noticed that her stock of wood was running low, and with a mighty effort of the will she opened the door to bring in some from a pile in the yard.  Stopping a minute to muster up her courage, she waited at the open door.  Suddenly the weird cry of a wolf came up from the creek bank, and it was a bitter, lonely, insistent cry.

She slammed the door, and coming back into the room, sank weak and trembling into a chair.  A horror grew upon her until the beads of perspiration stood upon her face.  Her hands grew numb and useless, and the skin of her head seemed stiff and frozen.  Her ears were strained to catch any sound, and out of the silence there came many strange noises to torment her overstrained senses.

She thought of Mrs. Corbett at the Stopping-House, and tried to muster courage to walk the distance, but a terrible fear held her to the spot.

The fire died out, and the room grew colder and colder, but huddled in a chair in a panic of fear she did not notice the cold.  Her teeth chattered; spots of light danced before her tightly-shut eyes.  She did not know what she was afraid of; a terrible nameless fear seemed to be clutching at her very heart.  It was the living, waking counterpart of the nightmare that had made horrible her childhood nights—­a gripping, overwhelming fear of what might happen.

Suddenly something burst into the room—­the terrible something that she had been waiting for.  The silence broke into a thousand screaming voices.  She slipped to the floor and cried out in an agony of terror.

There was a loud knocking on the door, and then through the horrible silence that followed there came a voice calling to her not to be afraid.

She staggered to the door and unbarred it, and heard someone speak again in blessed human voice.