The human qualities of warmth and tenderness did not accord with that chilling neglected exterior.
He approached the door, his sensations painful enough in the mingled tumult of suspense, hope, and fear.

There was no bell, only an old-fashioned brass knocker, which, with a kind of surly stiffness, resisted his attempt to use it.

He managed to wrench one knock out of it, and left it suspended in the air.
There was a considerable pause before the knock was answered.

Then the door was opened by a pretty slim servant girl.

There was nothing funereal in her appearance except her black dress, and that was set off by a coquettish white apron.