gave a cold shiver and she heard Mathilde suddenly say:
"Oh, nothing . . . nothing will induce me to go up that staircase!"
But she forced herself and went; and the others followed her.
They found Addie on the small, narrow back-staircase; and he was carrying Marietje, Mary, in his arms. She hung against him unconscious, like a white bundle of clothes, with her nerveless arms hanging slack and limp.
"What happened?"
"I heard her call out. . . . The staircase-door above was open. . . . I expect she meant to go downstairs . . . to fetch something . . . and was taken ill on the stairs. . . . Help me, can't you?" he said, almost impatiently.
The women helped him carry Marietje upstairs. They all went up now, to their rooms; the maids, still pale and trembling, put out the lamps in the sitting-room; and silence and darkness fell over the house, as they went creaking up the stairs, with candles in their hands.
The wind outside increased in violence; and the dripping thaw pattered against the panes.
The three sisters were together in their bedrooms: Marietje and Gerdy in their room, Adeletje in her own room, with the door open between them. And they spoke very low, in whispering voices:
"I'm getting used to it," said Marietje, sensibly; "I'm no longer frightened."
"I heard it quite lately," said Gerdy.
And Adeletje answered:
"Yes, I hear it nearly every evening."
"Uncle and Aunt don't speak about it."
"No, it's better not to."
"It's always the same sound: like the dragging
