tood (with the knife in her hand) with
_her_ eyes on _me_.

She said not a word as we stared each other in the face; but she moved
after a little--moved slowly toward the left-hand side of the bed.

The light fell full on her face. A fair, fine woman, with yellowish flaxen
hair, and light gray eyes, with a droop in the left eyelid. I noticed
these things and fixed them in my mind, before she was quite round at the
side of the bed. Without saying a word; without any change in the stony
stillness of her face; without any noise following her footfall, she came
closer and closer; stopped at the bed-head; and lifted the knife to stab
me. I laid my arm over my throat to save it; but, as I saw the blow
coming, I threw my hand across the bed to the right side, and jerked my
body over that way, just as the knife came down, like lightning, within a
hair's breadth of my shoulder.

My eyes fixed on her arm and her hand--she gave me time to look at them as
she slowly drew the knife out of the bed. A white, well-shaped arm, with a
pretty down lying lightly over the fair skin. A delicate lady's hand, with
a pink flush round the finger nails.

She drew the knife out, and passed back again slowly to the foot of the
bed; she stopped there for a moment looking at me; then she came on
without saying a word; without any change in the stony stillness of her
face; without any noise following her footfall--came on to the side of the
bed where I now lay.

Getting near me, she lifted the knife again, and I drew myself away to the
left side. She struck, as before right into the mattress, with a swift
downward action of her arm; and she missed me, as before; by a hair's
breadth. This time my eyes wandered from _her_ to the knife. It was like
the large clasp knives which laboring men use to cut their bread and bacon
with. Her delicate little fingers did not hide more than two thirds of the
handle; I noticed that it was made of buckhorn, clean and shining as the
blade was, and looking like new.

For the second time she drew the knife out of the bed, and suddenly hid it
away in the wide sleeve of her gown. That done, she stopped by the bedside
watching me. For an instant I saw her standing in that position--then the
wick of the spent candle fell over into the socket. The flame dwindled to
a little blue point, and the room grew dark.

A moment, or less, if possible, passed so--and then the wick flared up,
smokily, for the last time. My eyes wer