The winds are hushed; the church clock proclaims the hour of one: a hissing sound comes from the throat of the hideous being, and he raises his long, gaunt arms--the lips move.
He advances.

The girl places one small foot from the bed on to the floor.

She is unconsciously dragging the clothing with her.

The door of the room is in that direction--can she reach it?
Has she power to walk ?--can she withdraw her eyes from the face of the intruder, and so break the hideous charm?
God of Heaven! is it real, or some dream so like reality as to nearly overturn the judgment for ever?
The figure has paused again, and half on the bed and half out of it that young girl lies trembling.

Her long hair streams across the entire width of the bed.