How slowly it seemed to move, now that she could hear but not see it, creeping along the floor! It reached the door at last, and stood upon its feet.

The steps creaked beneath its noiseless tread, and it was gone.
The first impulse of the child was to fly from the terror of being by herself in that room--to have somebody by--not to be alone--and then her power of speech would be restored.

With no consciousness of having moved, she gained the door.
There was the dreadful shadow, pausing at the bottom of the steps.
She could not pass it; she might have done so, perhaps, in the darkness without being seized, but her blood curdled at the thought.

The figure stood quite still, and so did she; not boldly, but of necessity; for going back into the room was hardly less terrible than going on.
The rain beat fast and furiously without, and ran down in plashing streams from the thatched roof.

Some summer insect, with no escape into the air, flew blindly to and fro, beating its body against the walls and ceiling, and filling the silent place with murmurs.