vacant, Mrs. Hazleton saying, as they passed
the large bed canopied with velvet, "My mother died there--ah, me!" The
next door opened into the corridor; but Emily knew not where her hostess
slept, till perceiving a light streaming out upon the floor from a room
near the end, she guided Mrs. Hazleton's steps thither, rightly judging
that it must be the chamber she had just left. There she quietly induced
her to go to bed again, taking the lamp from her hand, and bending down
her sweet, innocent face, gave her a gentle kiss.

"Asp!" said Mrs. Hazleton, turning away; but Emily remained with her for
several minutes, till the eyes closed, the breathing became calm and
regular, and natural sleep succeeded to the strange state into which she
had fallen.

Then returning to her own room, Emily once more sought her bed; but
though the moonlight had now departed, she was farther from sleep than
ever.

Mrs. Hazleton's words still rang in her ears. She thought them very
strange; but yet she had heard--it was indeed a common superstition in
those days--that people talking in their sleep expressed feelings
exactly the reverse of those which they really entertained; and her
good, bright heart was glad to believe. She would not for the world have
thought that the fair form, and gentle, dignified manners of her friend
could shroud feelings so fierce and vindictive as those which had
breathed forth in the utterance of that one word, "hate." It seemed to
her impossible that Mrs. Hazleton could hate any thing, and she resolved
to believe so still. But yet the words rang in her ears, as I have said.
She had been somewhat agitated and alarmed, too, though less than many
might have been, and more than an hour passed before her sweet eyes
closed.

On the morning of the following day, Emily was somewhat late at
breakfast; and she found Mrs. Hazleton down, and looking bright and
beautiful as the morning. It was evident that she had not even the
faintest recollection of what had occurred in the night--that it was a
portion of her life apart, between which and waking existence there was
no communication open. Emily determined to take no notice of her
sleep-walking; and she was wise, for I have always found, that to be
informed of their strange peculiarity leaves an awful and painful
impression on the real somnambulists--a feeling of being unlike the rest
of human beings, of having a sort of preternatural existence, over which
their human reaso