Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Annabel shook her head. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station.
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