k, nor a rat, nor a person snoring.

She crept under the clothes, and flung her arms tightly round Miss
Aldclyffe, as if for protection. Cytherea perceived that the lady's late
peaceful warmth had given place to a sweat. At the maiden's touch, Miss
Aldclyffe awoke with a low scream.

She remembered her position instantly. 'O such a terrible dream!' she
cried, in a hurried whisper, holding to Cytherea in her turn; 'and
your touch was the end of it. It was dreadful. Time, with his wings,
hour-glass, and scythe, coming nearer and nearer to me--grinning and
mocking: then he seized me, took a piece of me only... But I can't tell
you. I can't bear to think of it. How those dogs howl! People say it
means death.'

The return of Miss Aldclyffe to consciousness was sufficient to
dispel the wild fancies which the loneliness of the night had woven in
Cytherea's mind. She dismissed the third noise as something which in all
likelihood could easily be explained, if trouble were taken to inquire
into it: large houses had all kinds of strange sounds floating about
them. She was ashamed to tell Miss Aldclyffe her terrors.

A silence of five minutes.

'Are you asleep?' said Miss Aldclyffe.

'No,' said Cytherea, in a long-drawn whisper.

'How those dogs howl, don't they?'

'Yes. A little dog in the house began it.'

'Ah, yes: that was Totsy. He sleeps on the mat outside my father's
bedroom door. A nervous creature.'

There was a silent interval of nearly half-an-hour. A clock on the
landing struck three.

'Are you asleep, Miss Aldclyffe?' whispered Cytherea.

'No,' said Miss Aldclyffe. 'How wretched it is not to be able to sleep,
isn't it?'

'Yes,' replied Cytherea, like a docile child.

Another hour passed, and the clock struck four. Miss Aldclyffe was still
awake.

'Cytherea,' she said, very softly.

Cytherea made no answer. She was sleeping soundly.

The first glimmer of dawn was now visible. Miss Aldclyffe arose, put on
her dressing-gown, and went softly downstairs to her own room.

'I have not told her who I am after all, or found out the particulars
of Ambrose's history,' she murmured. 'But her being in love alters
everything.'

3. HALF-PAST SEVEN TO TEN O'CLOCK A.M.

Cytherea awoke, quiet in mind and refreshed. A conclusion to remain at
Knapwater was already in possession of her.

Finding Miss Aldclyffe gone, she dressed herself and sat down at the
window to write an answer to Edward's letter, and an acco