And now, if ever, she must weep; but she could not.
The lamp burned low, and cast smoky shadows on the ceiling and the walls.

The shuttered windows showed their dead faces.

The cheerful soul of the room had passed from it with the fire, leaving the shell gloomy, lifeless, repellent.

Anne drowsed a moment in sheer exhaustion, and would have slept, if the lamp on the point of expiring had not emitted a sound and roused her.

She rose reluctantly, dragged herself to the great cupboard under the stairs, and, having lighted a rushlight at the dying flame, put out the lamp and refilled it.
She was about to re-light it, and had taken the rushlight in her hand for the purpose, when she heard through the shuttered windows and the barred door a growing clamour; the tramp of heavy feet, the hum of many voices, the buzz of a crowd that, almost as soon as she awoke to its near presence, came to a stand before the house.