Her hand was so cold that Philip involuntarily held it tighter in his own, as if to give it warmth.

He could feel her shivering, and yet something told him that what he sensed in the darkness was not caused by chill alone.

Several times her fingers closed shudderingly about his.
They had not walked more than a couple of hundred yards when a turn brought them out of the forest trail, and the blackness ahead was broken by a solitary light, a dimly lighted window in a pit of gloom.
"Marja is not expecting us to-night," apologized the girl nervously.
"That is Adare House." The loneliness of the spot, its apparent emptiness of life, the silence save for the snuffling and whining of the unseen beasts about them, stirred Philip with a curious sensation of awe.

He had at least expected light and life at Adare House.

Here were only the mystery of darkness and a deathlike quiet.