She
reached at last the coal-cellar, the first that opened from the passage,
and looked in. The coal-heap was low, and the place looked large and
very black. She sent her keenest gaze through the darkness, but could
see nothing; went in and moved about until she had thrown light into
every corner: no one was there. She was on the point of returning when
she bethought herself there were other cellars--one the wine-cellar,
which was locked: she would go and see if Sarah knew anything about the
key of it. But just as she left the coal-cellar, she heard a moan,
followed by a succession of low sobs. Her heart began to beat violently,
but she stopped to listen. The light of her candle fell upon another
door, a pace or two from where she stood. She went to it, laid her ear
against it, and listened. The sobs continued a while, ceased, and left
all silent. Then clear and sweet, but strange and wild, as if from some
region unearthly, came the voice of a child: she could hear distinctly
what it said.
"Mother," it rang out, "you _may_ put me in the hole."
And the silence fell deep as before.
Hester stood for a moment horrified.
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