oung man's countenance, or heard
from his lips; and she fixed at length more upon the menacing scowl
which she had marked upon his brow in the cottage, than even upon the
menacing language which he had held when her father's name was
mentioned.

Sleep visited not her eyes for many an hour, and when at length her eyes
closed through fatigue, it was restless and dreamful. She fancied she
saw John Ayliffe holding Sir Philip on the ground, trying to strangle
him. She strove to scream for help, but her lips seemed paralyzed, and
there was no sound. That strange anguish of sleep--the anguish of
impotent strong will--of powerless passion--of effort without effect,
was upon her, and soon burst the bonds of slumber. It would have been
impossible to endure it long. All must have felt that it is greater than
any mortal agony; and that if he could endure more than a moment, like a
treacherous enemy it would slay us in our sleep.

She awoke unrefreshed, and rose pale and sad. I cannot say that Mrs.
Hazleton, when she beheld Emily's changed look, felt any great
compunction. If she had no great desire to torture, which I will not
pretend to say, she did not at all object to see her victim suffer; but
Emily's pale cheek and distressed look afforded indications still more
satisfactory; which Mrs. Hazleton remarked with the satisfaction of a
philosopher watching a successful experiment. They showed that the
preparation she had made for what was coming, was even more effectual
than she had expected, and so the abstract pleasure of inflicting pain
on one she hated, was increased by the certainty of success.

Emily said little--referred not at all to the subject of her thoughts,
but dwelt upon it--pondered in silence. To one who knew her she might
have seemed sullen, sulky; but it was merely that one of those fits of
deep intense communion with the inner things of the heart--those
abstracted rambles through the mazy wilderness of thought, which
sometimes fell upon her, was upon her now. At these times it was very
difficult to draw her spirit forth into the waking world again--to rouse
her to the things about her life. It seemed as if her soul was absent
far away, and that the mere animal life of the body remained. Great
events might have passed before her eyes, without her knowing aught of
them.

On all former occasions but one, these reveries--for so I must call
them--had been of a lighter and more pleasant nature. In them it had
seem