CHAPTER XXVIII 423 to the door.
" Is it you, Mr. St. John?" cried Hannah. " Yes-- yes; open quickly."
" Well, how wet and cold you must be, such a wild night as it is! Come in-- your sisters are quite uneasy about you, and I believe there are bad folks about. There has been a beggar-woman-- I declare she is not gone yet!-- laid down there. Get up! for shame! Move off, I say!"
" Hush, Hannah! I have a word to say to the woman. You have done your duty in excluding, now let me do mine in admitting her. I was near, and listened to both you and her. I think this is a peculiar case-- I must at least examine into it. Young woman, rise, and pass before me into the house."
With difficulty I obeyed him. Presently I stood within that clean, bright kitchen-- on the very hearth-- trembling, sickening; conscious of an aspect in the last degree ghastly, wild, and weather-beaten. The two ladies, their brother, Mr. St. John, the old servant, were all gazing at me.
" St. John, who is it?" I heard one ask. " I cannot tell: I found her at the door," was the reply. " She does look white," said Hannah. " As white as clay or death," was responded. " She will fall: let her sit."
And indeed my head swam: I dropped, but a chair received me. I still possessed my senses, though just now I could not speak.
" Perhaps a little water would restore her. Hannah, fetch some. But she is worn to nothing. How very thin, and how very bloodless!"
" A mere spectre!"