Grand total: “What _must_ he think of me?” Time gallops in reverie: the town clock struck twelve, and with its iron tongue remorse entered her youthful conscience. Was this obeying mamma? Mamma had said, “Go to bed:” not, “Go upstairs and meditate: upon young gentlemen.” She gave an expressive shake of her fair shoulders, like a swan flapping the water off its downy wings, and so dismissed the subject from her mind. Then she said her prayers. Then she rose from her knees, and in tones of honey said, “Puss! puss! pretty puss!” and awaited a result. Thieves and ghosts she did not believe in, yet credited cats under beds, and thought them neither “harmless” nor “necessary” there. After tenderly evoking the dreaded and chimerical quadruped, she proceeded none the less to careful research, especially of cupboards. The door of one resisted, and then yielded with a crack, and blew out the candle. “There now,” said she. It was her only light, except her beauty. They allotted each Hebe but one candle, in that ancient burgh. “Well,” she thought, “there is moonlight enough to _un_dress by.” She went to draw back one of the curtains; but in the act she started back with a little scream. There was a tall figure over the way watching the house. The moon shone from her side of the street full on him, and in that instant her quick eye recognised Mr. Hardie. “Well!” said she aloud, and with an indescribable inflexion; and hid herself swiftly in impenetrable gloom. But, after a while, Eve's daughter must have a peep. She stole with infinite caution to one side of the curtain, and made an aperture just big enough for one bright eye. Yes, there he was, motionless. “I'll tell mamma,” said she to him, malignantly, as if the sound could reach him. Unconscious of the direful threat, he did not budge. She was unaffectedly puzzled at this phenomenon; and, not being the least vain, fell to wondering whether he played the nightly sentinel opposite every lady's window who exchanged civilities within him. “Because, if he does, he is a fool,” said she, promptly. But on reflection, she felt sure he did nothing of the kind habitually, for he had too high an opinion of himself; she had noted that trait in him at a very early stage. She satisfied herself, by cautious examination, that he did not know her room. He was making a temple of the whole lodging. “How ridiculous of him!” Yet he appeared to be happy over it; there was an exalted look in his moonlit face; she seemed now first to see his soul there. She studied his countenance like an inscription, and deciphered each rapt expression that crossed it; and stored them in her memory. Twice she left her ambuscade to go to bed, and twice Curiosity, or Something, drew her back. At last, having looked, peered, and peeped, till her feet were cold, and her face the reverse, she informed herself that the foolish Thing had tired her out.