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.

It was now something beyond the middle of October, and at present it might be eight o'clock.
She knew that there would be moonlight, and she looked up at the sky; but the clouds were all dark, though she could see that they were moving along with the gusts of wind.