Then she ran quickly up to her own room, put on her hat and her
old worn cloak--the cloak which aunt Sophie had given her--and returned
once more into the parlour. She looked round the room with anxious
eyes, and seeing her desk, she took the key from her pocket and put
it into the lock. Then there came a thought into her mind as to the
papers; but she resolved that the thought need not arrest her, and
she left the key in the lock with the papers untouched. Then she went
to the door of her father's room, and stood there for a moment with her
hand upon the latch. She tried it ever so gently, but she found that
the door was bolted. The bolt, she knew, was on her side, and she could
withdraw it; but she did not do so; seeming to take the impediment as
though it were a sufficient bar against her entrance. Then she ran down
the stairs rapidly, opened the front door, and found herself out in the
night air.
It was a cold windy night--not so late, indeed, as to have made her
feel that it was night, had she not come from the gloom of the dark
parlour, and the glimmer of her one small lamp.
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