autiful hair!" quoth the abigail, in an under tone, as if she
were merely holding a sociable chat with herself--"for all the world
like skeins of golden thread; and what a fair skin! just like a heap of
snow, or a newly washed sheet spread out to bleach. Patience alive! this
pretty arm beats Mrs. Swelby's wax-work all hollow; and these
beautiful--"

"You vex me to death with your nonsense, Matilda," cried Fanny--"how
tiresome you are! Pray be silent."

Thus rebuked, the ladies' maid continued her task in silence. When the
young lady was disrobed, and about to retire to bed, she was startled
by a sudden exclamation of Matilda's--

"Bless me, Miss! what noise was that? It sounded as if somebody was hid
somewhere in this very chamber."

They both paused and listened; all was again still. Fanny, as well as
her maid had certainly heard a slight noise, which seemed to have been
produced by a slow and cautious movement, and sounded like the rustling
of a curtain.

"Twas nothing but the noise of the night-breeze agitating the window
curtains," remarked Fanny, at length, with a smile.

Ah! neither she, nor her maid, saw the two fearful eyes that were
glaring at them from among the intricate folds of the curtain, beneath
the bed!--Neither saw they the dark and hideous countenance of the
ruffian that lay concealed there.

"Well, Miss," said Matilda, not over half re-assured by the words of her
mistress--"it may be nothing, as you say; but, for my part, I never go
to bed a single night in the year, without first _looking under the bed_
to see that nobody is hid away there. And I advise you to do the same,
Miss; and I am sure you would, if you only knew what happened to my
cousin Bridget."

"And what was that, pray?" asked Fanny, as she got into bed, and settled
herself comfortably, in order to listen to what happened to cousin
Bridget--all her fears in regard to the noise which she had heard,
having vanished.

"Why, you see, miss," said Matilda, seating herself at the
bed-side,--"cousin Bridget was cook in a gentleman's family in this
city, and a very nice body she was, and is to this day. In the same
family there lived a young man as was a coachman, very good-looking, and
very attentive to Biddy, as we call her for shortness, miss. But, though
he was desperate in love with my cousin, she would give him no
encouragement, and the poor fellow pined away, and neglected his
wittles, and grew thin in flesh, until, from being