his done she
took the manuscript inscribed, "My Confession," out of the secret pocket
of her stays--turned to the last leaf as before--and wrote another
entry, under the entry made on the previous night.

"This morning I gave him notice to quit, and offered him his money back
if he wanted it. He refuses to go. He shall go to-morrow, or I will
burn the place over his head. All through to-day I have avoided him by
keeping out of the house. No rest to ease my mind, and no sleep to close
my eyes. I humbly bear my cross as long as my strength will let me."

At those words the pen dropped from her fingers. Her head nodded on
her breast. She roused herself with a start. Sleep was the enemy she
dreaded: sleep brought dreams.

She unfastened the window-shutters and looked out at the night. The
peaceful moonlight was shining over the garden. The clear depths of the
night sky were soothing and beautiful to look at. What! Fading already?
clouds? darkness? No! Nearly asleep once more. She roused herself again,
with a start. There was the moonlight, and there was the garden as
bright under it as ever.

Dreams or no dreams, it was useless to fight longer against the
weariness that overpowered her. She closed the shutters, and went back
to the bed; and put her Confession in its customary place at night,
under her pillow.

She looked round the room--and shuddered. Every corner of it was filled
with the terrible memories of the past night. She might wake from the
torture of the dreams to find the terror of the Apparition watching at
her bedside. Was there no remedy? no blessed safeguard under which she
might tranquilly resign herself to sleep? A thought crossed her mind.
The good book--the Bible. If she slept with the Bible under her pillow,
there was hope in the good book--the hope of sleeping in peace.

It was not worth while to put on the gown and the stays which she had
taken off. Her shawl would cover her. It was equally needless to take
the candle. The lower shutters would not be closed at that hour; and
if they were, she could lay her hand on the Bible, in its place on the
parlor book-shelf, in the dark.

She removed the Confession from under the pillow. Not even for a minute
could she prevail on herself to leave it in one room while she was away
from it in another. With the manuscript folded up, and hidden in her
hand, she slowly descended the stairs again. Her knees trembled under
her. She was obliged to hold by the bani