She must wait before she did the deed.  The nuns would go down into the lighted church, and kneel and pray before the altar.  It would last some time, the midnight lessons, the psalms, the prayers—­and she must be sure that all was quiet, for the deed could not be done in the room where Beatrice was sleeping.

She was conscious of the time now, and every minute seemed an hour, and every second was full of that one deed, done over and over again before her eyes, until every awful detail of the awful whole was stamped indelibly upon her brain.  She had sat down now, and leaning forwards, was watching the innocent woman and wondering how she would look when she was doing it.  But she was calm now, as she felt that she had never been in her life.  Her breath came evenly, her heart beat naturally, she thought connectedly of what she was about to do.  But the time seemed endless.

The distant clocks chimed the half hour, three-quarters, past midnight.  Still she waited.  At the stroke of one she rose from her seat, and standing beside Beatrice laid her hand upon the dark brow.

A few questions, a few answers followed.  She must assure herself that her victim was in the right state to execute minutely all her commands.  Then she opened the door upon the corridor and listened.  Not a sound broke the intense stillness, and all was dark.  The hanging lamp had been extinguished and the nuns had all returned from the midnight service to their cells.  No one would be stirring now until four o’clock, and half an hour was all that Unorna needed.

She took Beatrice’s hand.  The dark woman rose with half-closed eyes and set features.  Unorna led her out into the dark passage.

“It is light here,” Unorna said.  “You can see your way.  But I am blind.  Take my hand—­so—­and now lead me to the church by the nun’s staircase.  Make no noise.”

“I do not know the staircase,” said the sleeper in drowsy tones.

Unorna knew the way well enough, but not wishing to take a light with her, she was obliged to trust herself to her victim, for whose vision there was no such thing as darkness unless Unorna willed it.

“Go as you went to-day, to the room where the balcony is, but do not enter it.  The staircase is on the right of the door, and leads into the choir.  Go!”

Without hesitation Beatrice led her out into the impenetrable gloom, with swift, noiseless footsteps in the direction commanded, never wavering nor hesitating whether to turn to the right or the left, but walking as confidently as though in broad daylight.  Unorna counted the turnings and knew that there was no mistake.  Beatrice was leading her unerringly towards the staircase.  They reached it, and began to descend the winding steps.  Unorna, holding her leader by one hand, steadied herself with the other against the smooth, curved wall, fearing at every moment lest she should stumble and fall in the total darkness.  But Beatrice never faltered.  To her the way was as bright as though the noonday sun had shone before her.