mysterious
neighbor should prove some harmless wanderer or an imaginary terror of
her own, so she held her peace, thinking valiantly as the drops gathered
on her forehead, and every sense grew painfully alert--

"I'll not call if my hair turns gray with fright, and I find myself an
idiot to-morrow. I told them to try me, and I won't be found wanting at
the first alarm. I'll be still, if the thing does not touch me till
dawn, when I shall know how to act at once, and so save myself from
ridicule at the cost of a wakeful night."

Holding fast to this resolve Sylvia lay motionless; listening to the
cricket's chirp without, and taking uncomfortable notes of the state of
things within, for the new comer stirred heavily, sighed long and
deeply, and seemed to wake often, like one too sad or weary to rest. She
would have been wise to have screamed her scream and had the rout over,
for she tormented herself with the ingenuity of a lively fancy, and
suffered more from her own terrors than at the discovery of a dozen
vampires. Every tale of _diablerie_ she had ever heard came most
inopportunely to haunt her now, and though she felt their folly she
could not free herself from their dominion. She wondered till she could
wonder no longer what the morning would show her. She tried to calculate
in how many springs she could reach and fly over the low partition which
separated her from her sleeping body-guard. She wished with all her
heart that she had stayed in her nest which was nearer the door, and
watched for dawn with eyes that ached to see the light.

In the midst of these distressful sensations the far-off crow of some
vigilant chanticleer assured her that the short summer night was wearing
away and relief was at hand. This comfortable conviction had so good an
effect that she lapsed into what seemed a moment's oblivion, but was in
fact an hour's restless sleep, for when her eyes unclosed again the
first red streaks were visible in the east, and a dim light found its
way into the barn through the great door which had been left ajar for
air. An instant Sylvia lay collecting herself, then rose on her arm,
looked resolutely behind her, stared with round eyes a moment, and
dropped down again, laughing with a merriment, which coming on the heels
of her long alarm was rather hysterical. All she saw was a little
soft-eyed Alderney, which lifted its stag-like head, and regarded her
with a confiding aspect that won her pardon for its in