It was by this door
I entered, bringing with me from the kitchen the chair you afterwards
found there.
I knew where the volume of memoirs I speak of was to be found - you
do, too, I see - for it was my hand which had placed it in its
present concealment. Quite determined to reread such portions of
it, as I had long before marked as pertinent to the very attempt I
had in mind, I brought in the candelabrum from the parlor and drew
out a table to hold it. But I waited a few moments before taking
down the book itself. I wanted first to learn what Mr. Jeffrey had
been doing upstairs the night before. So leaving the light burning
in the library, I proceeded to the southwest chamber, holding an
unlit candle in my hand, the light feebly diffused through the
halls from some upper windows being sufficient for me to see my way.
But in the chamber itself all was dark.
The wind had not yet risen and the shutter which a half-hour later
moved so restlessly on its creaking hinges, hugged the window so
tightly that I imagined Mr. Jeffrey had fastened it the night before.
Looking for some receptacle in which to set the candle I now lit,
I failed to find anything but an empty tumbler, so I made use of
that. Then I glanced about me, but seeing nothing worth my attention
- Mrs.
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