"
Dorothy seemed incapable of reasoning further. She threw herself down on
her bed and gazed fixedly at the ceiling, as if expecting some inspiration
to come from the dainty blue and gold papering.
How long she lay there she had no idea of computing--it was not now a
question of time, although the night must be far advanced, but to the
perplexed girl everything about her seemed to surge in one great sea of
difficulties.
She jumped up suddenly.
"I wonder how Ned is?" she thought. "If only he is not seriously hurt. The
doctor said if he slept, and no fever arose, he would do well. I wonder
how I can find out. I might slip downstairs and listen."
She drew her heavy blue robe around her, put on her slippers and softly
opened the door. There was no light in the upper hall, and a turn from the
first flight of stairs hid the dim light below. Directly at this turn a
push-button connected with an electric drop lamp, and this button Dorothy
touched as she passed.
At the broad window-seat she hesitated for a moment, looked out at the
clear, wintry night, and then slipped down the stairs so lightly that even
the cushioned velvet carpet took no impress of her footfall.
At the last step she stopped--a terrible fear clutched her heart. The
library door was open, but no sound came from the room.
She clung to the broad post and listened.
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