"I had been out perhaps an hour, when through the soft air came a
cry, apparently from far off. There was something in the tone that
seemed to me unusually frightful. The bare sound made me shudder
before I had time to say to myself it was a cry. I turned my face in
the direction of it, so far as I could judge, and went on. I cannot
run, for, if I attempt it, I am in a moment unable even to
walk--from palpitation and choking.
"I had not gone very far before I found myself approaching the
hollow where stands the old house of Glaston, uninhabited for twenty
years. Was it possible, I thought, that the cry came from the house,
and had therefore sounded farther off than it was? I stood and
listened for a moment, but all seemed still as the grave. I must go
in, and see whether anyone was there in want of help. You may well
smile at the idea of my helping anyone, for what could I do if it
came to a struggle?"
"On the contrary," interrupted Wingfold, "I was smiling with
admiration of your pluck."
"At least," resumed Polwarth, "I have this advantage over some, that
I cannot be fooled with the fancy that this poor miserable body of
mine is worth thinking of beside the smallest suspicion of duty.
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