"In my own bed."
"Me go get!" said Li Ho.
But I had not waited. I had started to "go get" myself. The sense of
breathless hurry was on me again. I did not pause to argue that the
child was perfectly safe. I forgot that I had ever been lame.
Perhaps that sciatic nerve is only mortal mind anyway. When I came
out into the clearing the cottage was turning silver in the first
rays of the full moon. Very peaceful and secure it looked. And yet I
hurried!
I made no noise. To myself I explained this by a desire not to waken
the youngster. No use frightening him. I stole, as quietly as one of
his own ancestors, to the foot of the stairs. The door of Desire's
room was open. I could see a moonlit bar across the dark landing....
I think I went straight up that stair. I hope so. You know that one
of my worst nervous troubles has been a dread that I might fail in
some emergency? I dread a sort of nerve paralysis. . . . But I got
up the stair. The fear that seemed to push me back wasn't personal,
or physical--one might call it psychic fear, only that the word
explains nothing. . . . I looked in at the open door. There seemed
to be nothing there but the moonlight. The room must have been
almost as bare as my own. But over on the far side, beyond the zone
of the window, was the dim whiteness of a bed. I could see nothing
clearly--but the Fear was there. I dragged, actually dragged, my
feet across the floor--my sight growing clearer, until at last--I
saw!
I think I shouted, but it was so like a nightmare that I may not
have made a sound.
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