Great Expectations

It rose under my hand, and the door yielded. Looking in, I saw a lighted

candle on a table, a bench, and a mattress on a truckle bedstead. As

there was a loft above, I called, "Is there any one here?" but no voice

answered. Then I looked at my watch, and, finding that it was past nine,

called again, "Is there any one here?" There being still no answer, I

went out at the door, irresolute what to do.

It was beginning to rain fast. Seeing nothing save what I had seen

already, I turned back into the house, and stood just within the shelter

of the doorway, looking out into the night. While I was considering that

some one must have been there lately and must soon be coming back, or

the candle would not be burning, it came into my head to look if the

wick were long. I turned round to do so, and had taken up the candle in

my hand, when it was extinguished by some violent shock; and the next

thing I comprehended was, that I had been caught in a strong running

noose, thrown over my head from behind.

"Now," said a suppressed voice with an oath, "I've got you!"

"What is this?" I cried, struggling. "Who is it? Help, help, help!"

Not only were my arms pulled close to my sides, but the pressure on

my bad arm caused me exquisite pain. Sometimes, a strong man's hand,

sometimes a strong man's breast, was set against my mouth to deaden

my cries, and with a hot breath always close to me, I struggled

ineffectually in the dark, while I was fastened tight to the wall. "And

now," said the suppressed voice with another oath, "call out again, and

I'll make short work of you!"

Faint and sick with the pain of my injured arm, bewildered by the

surprise, and yet conscious how easily this threat could be put in

execution, I desisted, and tried to ease my arm were it ever so little.

But, it was bound too tight for that. I felt as if, having been burnt

before, it were now being boiled.

The sudden exclusion of the night, and the substitution of black

darkness in its place, warned me that the man had closed a shutter.

After groping about for a little, he found the flint and steel he

wanted, and began to strike a light. I strained my sight upon the sparks

that fell among the tinder, and upon which he breathed and breathed,

match in hand, but I could only see his lips, and the blue point of

the match; even those but fitfully. The tinder was damp,--no wonder

there,--and one after another the sparks died out.