was combed back from her face, and hung lightly down in long
silky folds over her shoulders. Her complexion looked more exquisitely
clear and pure than ever, set off as it was by the white dressing-gown
which now clothed her. She had a pretty little red and blue china
candlestick, given to her by Mrs. Blyth, in her hand; and, holding the
light above her, advanced slowly from the studio doorway, with her eyes
bent on the ground, searching anxiously for the missing bodkin-case.

Mat's resolution was taken the moment he caught sight of her. He never
stirred an inch from his place of concealment, until she had advanced
three or four paces into the room, and had her back turned full upon
him. Then quietly stepping a little forward from the door, but still
keeping well behind her, he blew out her candle, just as she was raising
it over her head, and looking down intently on the floor in front of
her.

He had calculated, rightly enough, on being able to execute this
maneuver with impunity from discovery, knowing that she was incapable
of hearing the sound of his breath when he blew her candle out, and
that the darkness would afterwards not only effectually shield him from
detection, but also oblige her to leave him alone in the room again,
while she went to get another light. He had not calculated, however, on
the serious effect which the success of his stratagem would have upon
her nerves, for he knew nothing of the horror which the loss of
her sense of hearing caused her always to feel when she was left in
darkness; and he had not stopped to consider that by depriving her of
her light, he was depriving her of that all-important guiding sense of
sight, the loss of which she could not supply in the dark, as others
could, by the exercise of the ear.

The instant he blew her candle out, she dropped the china candlestick,
in a paroxysm of terror. It fell, and broke, with a deadened sound, on
one of the many portfolios lying on the floor about her. He had hardly
time to hear this happen, before the dumb moaning, the inarticulate cry
of fear which was all that the poor panic-stricken girl could utter,
rose low, shuddering, and ceaseless, in the darkness--so close at his
ear, that he fancied he could feel her breath palpitating quick and warm
on his cheek.

If she should touch him? If she should be sensible of the motion of
_his_ foot on the floor, as she had been sensible of the motion of
Zack's, when young Thorpe offered her t