her feet. She whipped the idiotic handkerchief from her head and walked quietly to the door and out.
She found herself in a corridor which was unfamiliar, but after trying one or two doors discovered her way back to the stone-flagged hall which opened onto the balcony. She listened for sounds of pursuit but heard none. The hall was spacious, and devoid of decoration: no flowers, no pictures. An open fireplace with a stone carved chimney-piece was swept clean and filled with a heap of brown fir-cones. A green baize notice-board announced times of meals and services, and that there would shortly be a recital of Bach records. Dora hurried on and passed through the tall doorway onto the balcony.
She leaned on the balustrade between the pillars, looking down across the terrace to the lake. The sun had gone, but the western sky to her right was still full of a murky orange glow, glittering with a few feathers of pale cloud, against which a line of trees appeared black and jaggedly clear. She could also see the silhouette of a tower, which must belong to the Abbey. The lake too was glowing very slightly, darkened nearby to blackness, yet retaining here and there upon its surface a skin of almost phosphorescent light. Dora began to descend the steps.
She crossed the terrace and went down the further flight of shallow steps to the path. She paused here because her feet were hurting, took one shoe off, and caressed her foot. Her foot released felt so much better that Dora kicked the other shoe off at once. It fell into some long grass by the side of the steps. Dora tossed its fellow after it and began to run towards the lake. The steps were dry and still warm from the dayâs sunshine. The path between the yew trees was of clipped grass and slightly damp already with the dew.
At the edge of the water, fringed by reeds, was a little wooden landing-stage and a small rowing boat. The boat had the attentive tempting look that small rowing boats have. A single oar lay within it. Dora loved boats, though they made her nervous too since she could not swim. She resisted the temptation to get into the boat and glide upon the black glass of the lake. She walked instead a little way along the bank, walking now through the longish grass which tugged stickily at the hem of her skirt. The ground was becoming damp and marshy underfoot. The lake began to bend sharply away to the right and she dimly saw that there was another reach of water on the other side of the house, dividing it from the Abbey. She stood looking out into the darkness across the water and reflected that this was the first moment of quietness in her day. She stood so for a little while listening to the silence.
Suddenly a hand bell rang sharply and clearly from the other side. It rang urgently and vigorously shaken for nearly a minute. Then there was complete silence again. It sounded as if the ringer of the bell must be outside on the edge of the lake, so clearly did the high imperative sound reach Doraâs ears. She turned and began to run quickly back toward the yew tree path. The bell alarmed her. She hurried panting up the slope and as she put her first foot onto the steps she remembered her shoes. She began to forage in the long grass at the side of the steps. The accursed shoes were not to be found. She looked up at the house, looming up dimly over her in the night sky. She stooped again to fumble helplessly in the grass. It was too dark to see anything. A light went on in the house, somewhere in the region of the balcony. Dora gave up her search and began to trail back across the terrace. The stones hurt her feet.
The room where the light was on opened directly onto the balcony, on the right side, through a pair of large glass double doors, which looked as if they had been recently put in, doubtless by the same vandal that had been active below. Dora could see that there were a lot of people gathered inside the lighted room. She did not dare to hesitate, but
She found herself in a corridor which was unfamiliar, but after trying one or two doors discovered her way back to the stone-flagged hall which opened onto the balcony. She listened for sounds of pursuit but heard none. The hall was spacious, and devoid of decoration: no flowers, no pictures. An open fireplace with a stone carved chimney-piece was swept clean and filled with a heap of brown fir-cones. A green baize notice-board announced times of meals and services, and that there would shortly be a recital of Bach records. Dora hurried on and passed through the tall doorway onto the balcony.
She leaned on the balustrade between the pillars, looking down across the terrace to the lake. The sun had gone, but the western sky to her right was still full of a murky orange glow, glittering with a few feathers of pale cloud, against which a line of trees appeared black and jaggedly clear. She could also see the silhouette of a tower, which must belong to the Abbey. The lake too was glowing very slightly, darkened nearby to blackness, yet retaining here and there upon its surface a skin of almost phosphorescent light. Dora began to descend the steps.
She crossed the terrace and went down the further flight of shallow steps to the path. She paused here because her feet were hurting, took one shoe off, and caressed her foot. Her foot released felt so much better that Dora kicked the other shoe off at once. It fell into some long grass by the side of the steps. Dora tossed its fellow after it and began to run towards the lake. The steps were dry and still warm from the dayâs sunshine. The path between the yew trees was of clipped grass and slightly damp already with the dew.
At the edge of the water, fringed by reeds, was a little wooden landing-stage and a small rowing boat. The boat had the attentive tempting look that small rowing boats have. A single oar lay within it. Dora loved boats, though they made her nervous too since she could not swim. She resisted the temptation to get into the boat and glide upon the black glass of the lake. She walked instead a little way along the bank, walking now through the longish grass which tugged stickily at the hem of her skirt. The ground was becoming damp and marshy underfoot. The lake began to bend sharply away to the right and she dimly saw that there was another reach of water on the other side of the house, dividing it from the Abbey. She stood looking out into the darkness across the water and reflected that this was the first moment of quietness in her day. She stood so for a little while listening to the silence.
Suddenly a hand bell rang sharply and clearly from the other side. It rang urgently and vigorously shaken for nearly a minute. Then there was complete silence again. It sounded as if the ringer of the bell must be outside on the edge of the lake, so clearly did the high imperative sound reach Doraâs ears. She turned and began to run quickly back toward the yew tree path. The bell alarmed her. She hurried panting up the slope and as she put her first foot onto the steps she remembered her shoes. She began to forage in the long grass at the side of the steps. The accursed shoes were not to be found. She looked up at the house, looming up dimly over her in the night sky. She stooped again to fumble helplessly in the grass. It was too dark to see anything. A light went on in the house, somewhere in the region of the balcony. Dora gave up her search and began to trail back across the terrace. The stones hurt her feet.
The room where the light was on opened directly onto the balcony, on the right side, through a pair of large glass double doors, which looked as if they had been recently put in, doubtless by the same vandal that had been active below. Dora could see that there were a lot of people gathered inside the lighted room. She did not dare to hesitate, but
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