An Open Verdict by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

BEATRIX went back to her room, accompanied by Mrs. Dulcimer and Bella Scratchell. In going through the dimly-lighted hall she passed a group of figures standing close together near the foot of the staircase; the Vicar, Mr. Namby, and one other, a taller figure than either of the two, a man standing with half-averted face, listening to some remark of Mr. Dulcimer's. Towards this one, whose face was hidden, Beatrix looked intently, but there was no time for more than that one earnest look, for Mrs. Dulcimer's supporting arm was round her, and Bella was on the other side. Between these sympathisers, she was led up the shallow old stairs to the familiar corridor which had to-night so awful and even unknown an air. Death lay yonder in the bedchamber where the coroner and his jury had gone in silently half an hour ago, to look upon the marble form that had so lately been master and owner of all things at the Water House. In the place of that stern ruler there was now only the lifeless clay. A dreadful blankness and emptiness had descended upon the house, so quiet, so changeless heretofore, but now pervaded with the one idea of death.

Beatrix shivered as she passed the door of the room where her dead father was lying. Mrs. Dulcimer perceived that shuddering recoil, and again suggested that her sweet Beatrix should come to the Vicarage. But again Beatrix was firm.