on the sofa.

It was about half-past ten o'clock when she awoke with a scream, and in
such terror that I had much difficulty in soothing her. She seemed very
unwilling to tell me the cause of her distress; but at last confessed
that on the two preceding nights she had had a vivid and alarming dream,
on each night the same. Poor Edmund's hand (she recognized it by the
sapphire ring) seemed to float in the air before her; and even after she
awoke, she still seemed to see it floating towards the door, and then
coming back again, till it vanished altogether. She had seen it again
now in her sleep. I sat silent, struggling with a feeling of
indignation. Why had she not spoken of it before? I do not know how long
it might have been before I should have broken the silence, but that my
eyes turned to the partially-open window and the dark night that lay
beyond. Then I shrieked, louder than she had done--

"Harriet! _There it is!_"

There it was--to my eyes--the detached hand, round which played a pale
light--the splendid sapphire gleaming unearthlily, like the flame of a
candle that is burning blue. But Harriet could see nothing. She said
that I frightened her, and shook her nerves, and took pleasure in doing
so; that I was the author of all our trouble, and she wished I would
drop the dreadful subject. She would have said much more, but that I
startled her by the vehemence of my interruption. I said that the day
was past when I would sacrifice my peace or my duty to her whims; and
she ventured no remonstrance when I announced that I intended to follow
the hand so long as it moved, and discover the meaning of the
apparition. I then flew downstairs and out into the garden, where it
still gleamed, and commenced a slow movement towards the gate. But my
flight had been observed, Nelly, by Robert, our old butler. I had
always been his favourite in the family, and since my grief, his humble
sympathy had only been second to that of Dr. Penn. I had noticed the
anxious watch he had kept over me since the trial, with a sort of sad
amusement. I afterwards learnt that all his fears had culminated to a
point when he saw me rush wildly from the house that night. He had
thought I was going to drown myself. He concealed his fears at the time,
however, and only said--

"What be the matter, Miss Dorothy?"

"Is that you, Robert?" I said. "Come here. Look! Do you see?"

"See what?" he said.

"Don't you see anything?" I said. "No light? Not