at an hour so late as ten o'clock in our town, Saturday night and the
Lord's day being more especially set apart for these usages.

But the light in Aurora Lane's house still burned. She did not know how
late it was. The clock on the mantel was silent, for it had been broken
by the men who had been there the night before. She sat motionless as a
woman of stone. Not even her boy was there--not even Miss Julia was
there. She was alone--with her future, and with her past.

It must have been toward midnight when at length Aurora Lane raised her
head, turned a little. She had heard a sound! A sharp pang of terror
caught at her--sheer, unreasoning terror. Were they coming again? But
no, it was not the sound of many footfalls, not the sound of many
voices.

What came to her now was a single sound, not made up of others--a low,
definite sound. And it was not at her door in front--it was at the side
of the house--it was at her window!

It was a slight sound--a sort of tapping rhythmically repeated--a
signal!

Aurora Lane stopped breathing--her heart stopped in her bosom. The face
was icy white which she turned toward the window back of which she heard
this sound, this signal. She thought she had gone mad. She believed that
at last her mind had broken under all the trials that had been heaped
upon it. Then her eyes began to move about, startled, like those of a
wild deer, seeking which way to leap.

It seemed to her she heard now another sound in addition, a sort of low
call, a word.... Yes, it was her name:

"Aurora! Aurora!"

What could it mean? It was some visitor come there in insult--it could
be no more than that. And yet what impiousness, what mockery! Because,
what she heard, she had heard before! It had been twenty years since,
and more--but she had heard it then.

Resolved suddenly to brave the worst, whatever it might be, she rose and
swiftly stepped to the side door which made out upon the narrow yard.

A man was standing near the door, now turning away from the window--a
tall man, slouching down like an old man.

"Who's there?" she cried, intending to call out aloud to give the alarm,
but failing to raise her voice above a whisper, such was her fear. Yes,
it was someone come here to offer yet another insult.

But the man came into the field of light which shone around her through
the door--came closer, reaching out his hands to her. She heard him
struggling with his own voice, trying to speak. At last: