CHAPTER IX.
MELUSINA.
Even then, with the daylight about him, he crept into the house under a weight of awe and dread.

He left the door ajar that the daylight might enter with him and dispel the shadows: and when he had crossed the threshold it was with a pale and frowning face that he advanced to the middle of the floor, and stood peering round the deserted living-room.
No one was stirring above or below, the house and all within it slept: the rushlight stand, its wick long extinguished, remained where he had set it down in the panic of his flight.
With that exception--he eyed it darkly--no trace of the mysterious event of the night was visible.

The room wore, or minute by minute assumed, its daylight aspect.

Nor had he stood long gazing upon it before he breathed more freely and felt his heart lightened.

What was to be thought, what could be thought in the circumstances, he was not prepared to say.