But where was my safety?
Was the mischief exhausted or flown?
The steps of the assassin had just been here; they could not be far off; in a moment he would rush into my presence, and I should perish under the same polluting and suffocating grasp! My frame shook, and my knees were unable to support me.

I gazed alternately at the closet door and at the door of my room.

At one of these avenues would enter the exterminator of my honor and my life.

I was prepared for defence; but now that danger was imminent, my means of defence, and my power to use them were gone.

I was not qualified, by education and experience, to encounter perils like these: or, perhaps, I was powerless because I was again assaulted by surprize, and had not fortified my mind by foresight and previous reflection against a scene like this.
Fears for my own safety again yielded place to reflections on the scene before me.