Little lamb!"
She tried to embrace him; she offered him sweets. He shuddered at her
approach, and his face was instantly grey, like a pool the moment after
the sun's setting. Had he been himself able to put into words his
sensations, he would have said that the sight of Mrs. Carter assured
him, quite definitely, that something horrible would soon occur.
The house upon whose atmosphere he so depended instantly darkened; his
Friend was gone, not because he was no longer able to see him (his
consciousness of him did not depend at all upon any visual assurance),
but because there was now, Henry was perfectly assured, no chance
whatever of his suddenly appearing. And, on the other hand, those
Others--the one with the taloned claws behind the piano, the one with
the black-hooded eyes--were stronger, more threatening, more dominating.
But, beyond her influence on the house, Mrs. Carter, in her own physical
and actual presence, tortured Henry. When she was in the room, Henry
suffered agony. He would creep away were he allowed, and, if that were
not possible, then he would retreat into the most distant corner and
watch.
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