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     The foyer, as eery and unwelcome as the rest of the apparent mansion. It was lit by a single candle lighting which hung above. The fireplace was cold and barren, and at the moment not a sound could be heard still. There was a sort of book room nearby, not large enough to be called a library.

     It was then the weeping began. The only sound to be heard, it was easy to pinpoint. It came from the small book room nearby. It was the sound of a young lady crying woefully, not bawling nor screaming, but a simple whimpering cry.
She was just inside of the bookroom, yet to be seen by Delilah. A slender young lady of a frail build down on her knees. She was knelt in the middle of the small room, between the two towering book shelves on either side of her and the small wooden desk and chair that sat in front of her. She wore a ragged black night gown that hung the distance to her feet.
She had long brunette hair that hung freely down her back. Her pale hands were cupped over her face as she knelt and cried softly, sniffling lightly between sobs.