'
'If there are spies without, I am safer here,' replied the man, standing
aghast. 'I will remain here, and will not fly till the danger is past.'
'It is too late!' cried the widow, who had listened for the step, and
not to him. 'Hark to that foot upon the ground. Do you tremble to hear
it! It is my son, my idiot son!'
As she said this wildly, there came a heavy knocking at the door. He
looked at her, and she at him.
'Let him come in,' said the man, hoarsely. 'I fear him less than the
dark, houseless night. He knocks again. Let him come in!'
'The dread of this hour,' returned the widow, 'has been upon me all my
life, and I will not. Evil will fall upon him, if you stand eye to eye.
My blighted boy! Oh! all good angels who know the truth--hear a poor
mother's prayer, and spare my boy from knowledge of this man!'
'He rattles at the shutters!' cried the man. 'He calls you. That voice
and cry! It was he who grappled with me in the road. Was it he?'
She had sunk upon her knees, and so knelt down, moving her lips, but
uttering no sound. As he gazed upon her, uncertain what to do or where
to turn, the shutters flew open. He had barely time to catch a knife
from the table, sheathe it in the loose sleeve of his coat, hide in the
closet, and do all with the lightning's speed, when Barnaby tapped at
the bare glass, and raised the sash exultingly.
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