She was awakened from her fit of musing by an unwonted sound—­a hollow tapping, tapping, tapping, which seemed to come from a corner of the attic where the shadows gathered most dun and dark.  The girl drew in her head from the window with a startled expression on her face, and was then more than ever aware of the strange sound which caused a slight thrill to run through her frame.

What could it be?  There was no other room in their house from which the sound could proceed.  She was not devoid of the superstitious feelings of the age, and had heard before of ghostly tappings that were said to be a harbinger of coming death or misfortune.

Tap! tap! tap!  The sound continued with a ceaseless regularity, and then came other strange sounds of wrenching and tearing.  These were perhaps not quite so ghostly, but equally alarming.  What could it be?  Who and what could be behind that wall?  Gertrude had heard stories of ghastly robberies, committed during these past days in plague-stricken houses, which were entered by worthless vagabonds, when all within were dead or helpless, and from which vantage ground they had gained access into other houses, and had sometimes brought the dread infection with them.

Gertrude was by nature courageous, and she had always made it a point of duty not to add to her mother’s alarms by permitting herself to fall a victim to nervous terrors.  Frightened though she undoubtedly was, therefore, she did not follow the impulse of her fear and run below to summon her father, who was, she suspected, bent on some serious work of his own; but she stood very still and quiet, pressing her hands over her beating heart, resolved if possible to discover the mystery for herself before giving any alarm.

All at once the sounds grew louder; something seemed to give way, and she saw a hand, a man’s hand, pushed through some small aperture.  At that she uttered a little cry.

“Who is there?” she cried, in a shaking voice; and immediately the hand was withdrawn, whilst a familiar and most reassuring voice made answer: 

“Is anybody there?  I beg ten thousand pardons.  I had thought the attic would be hare and empty.”

“Reuben!” cried Gertrude, springing forward towards the small aperture in the wall.  “Oh, what is it?  Is it indeed thou?  And what art thou doing to the wall?”

“Gertrude! is that thy voice indeed?  Nay, now, this is a good hap.  Sweet Mistress Gertrude, have I thy permission to open once again betwixt thy home and mine that door which as children thy brother and we did contrive, but which was presently sealed up, though not over-strongly?”

“Ah, the door!” cried Gertrude, coming forward to the place and feeling with her hands at the laths and woodwork; “I had forgot, but it comes to me again.  Yes, truly there was a rude door once.  Oh, open it quickly!  I will get thee a light and hold it.  Dost thou know, Reuben, what has befallen to make my father look as he did but now?  I trow it is something evil.  My heart is heavy within me.”