After such a confession as I have now made, it will appear
surprising to no one that I should have felt the strongest
possible inclination, while I stood by the ruined outhouse, to
retrace my steps at once, and make the best of my way out of the
wood. I had, indeed, actually turned to depart, when the
remembrance of the er rand which had brought me to the convent
suddenly stayed my feet. It seemed doubtful whether I should be
admitted into the building if I rang the bell; and more than
doubtful, if I were let in, whether the inhabitants would be able
to afford me any clew to the information of which I was in
search. However, it was my duty to Monkton to leave no means of
helping him in his desperate object untried; so I resolved to go
round to the front of the convent again, and ring at the
gate-bell at all hazards.
By the merest chance I looked up as I passed the side of the
outhouse where the jagged hole was, and noticed that it was
pierced rather high in the wall.
As I stopped to observe this, the closeness of the atmosphere in
the wood seemed to be affecting me more unpleasantly than ever.
I waited a minute and untied my cravat.
Closeness? surely it was something more than that. The air was
even more distasteful to my nostrils than to my lungs.
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