and fancied much concerning the heroism of being indifferent to it. The
tremors which the more startling flashes caused her, only made her more
conscious of her own courage and its contrast with the uneasiness of
Gertrude, who at last, shrinking from a forked zigzag of blue flame,
said:

"Let us go back to bed, Agatha. I feel sure that we are not safe here."

"Quite as safe as in bed, where we cannot see anything. How the house
shakes! I believe the rain will batter in the windows before--"

"Hush," whispered Gertrude, catching her arm in terror. "What was that?"

"What?"

"I am sure I heard the bell--the gate bell. Oh, do let us go back to
bed."

"Nonsense! Who would be out on such a night as this? Perhaps the wind
rang it."

They waited for a few moments; Gertrude trembling, and Agatha feeling,
as she listened in the darkness, a sensation familiar to persons who are
afraid of ghosts. Presently a veiled clangor mingled with the wind. A
few sharp and urgent snatches of it came unmistakably from the bell at
the gate of the college grounds. It was a loud bell, used to summon
a servant from the college to open the gates; for though there was a
porter's lodge, it was uninhabited.

"Who on earth can it be?" said Agatha. "Can't they find the wicket, the