ever exposing him again to such terrible temptations.
Then, she remembered that the crime was not to be committed until next
night, and there was the intermediate time for thinking, and resolving
what to do. Then, she was distracted with a horrible fear that he
might be committing it at that moment; with a dread of hearing shrieks
and cries piercing the silence of the night; with fearful thoughts of
what he might be tempted and led on to do, if he were detected in the
act, and had but a woman to struggle with. It was impossible to bear
such torture. She stole to the room where the money was, opened the
door, and looked in. God be praised! He was not there, and she was
sleeping soundly.

She went back to her own room, and tried to prepare herself for bed.
But who could sleep--sleep! who could lie passively down, distracted by
such terrors? They came upon her more and more strongly yet. Half
undressed, and with her hair in wild disorder, she flew to the old
man's bedside, clasped him by the wrist, and roused him from his sleep.

'What's this!' he cried, starting up in bed, and fixing his eyes upon
her spectral face.

'I have had a dreadful dream,' said the child, with an energy that
nothing but such terrors could have inspired. 'A dreadful, horrible
dream. I have had it once before. It is a dream of grey-haired men
like you, in darkened rooms by night, robbing sleepers of their gold.
Up, up!'

The old man shook in every joint, and folded his hands like one who
prays.

'Not to me,' said the child, 'not to me--to Heaven, to save us from
such deeds! This dream is too real. I cannot sleep, I cannot stay
here, I cannot leave you alone under the roof where such dreams come.
Up! We must fly.'

He looked at her as if she were a spirit--she might have been for all
the look of earth she had--and trembled more and more.

'There is no time to lose; I will not lose one minute,' said the child.
'Up! and away with me!'

'To-night?' murmured the old man.

'Yes, to-night,' replied the child. 'To-morrow night will be too late.
The dream will have come again. Nothing but flight can save us. Up!'

The old man rose from his bed: his forehead bedewed with the cold sweat
of fear: and, bending before the child as if she had been an angel
messenger sent to lead him where she would, made ready to follow her.
She took him by the hand and led him on. As they passed the door of the
room he had proposed to rob, she shudd