First came the echo of the distant steps of the women servants going by the back stairs to their rooms in the attic. Next came the three gentlemen up the front stairs. They all paused at the door of the sick room, to hear the last report of Erminie’s condition before taking a final leave for the night. Elfie went to meet them and gave her cheerless bulletin—“No change.” Justin came in on tip-toes and gazed mournfully on his sister for a few moments, and then kissed her pallid brow and stole away. And the three gentlemen went up another flight of stairs, separated to their several apartments and retired to bed. Lastly Elfie heard Old Bob drag his mattress up the kitchen stairs and along the hall to the front door, across which he laid it down; for there, like a big watch-dog, he slept all night to guard the door, and also to be at hand to let the doctor in should he call during the night or very early in the morning. The tumbling rather than the laying down of Old Bob on his mattress was the last social sound that Elfie heard to keep her company. After that all about the house was as still as the tomb. Though Elfie hated snorers, now, so nervous and excitable did she feel, that she would have been glad to hear Old Bob snore most sonorously. But apparently the porter was a deep and silent sleeper. Every five or ten minutes Elfie stooped over her patient; but the still white face, so like the face of the dead, filled her with terror. She could sometimes scarcely forbear screaming and running from the room. But she controlled herself and watched on. “What _has_ come over me?” she asked of herself. “I am naturally no coward; and yet here I am listening and watching and starting as if I expected to hear, or see, or suffer something hideous. Is it that I am out of sorts through broken rest and irregular meals—fatigue of body and anxiety of mind? Or is it the effect of the green tea? Or is it the near proximity of death that gives all my surroundings a supernatural aspect and throws over my spirit an atmosphere of awe and dread? I will walk awhile.” And so saying, Elfie arose and paced up and down the floor. Her feet, cased in velvet slippers and walking over a soft carpet, made no noise. So Elfie paced back and forth many times, until she had walked a mile or two, if the distance had all been stretched out in a line. Then when she had thoroughly fatigued herself, she sat down again in her easy chair. Her act had been a very imprudent one; it had tired her and made her sleepy. Indeed, she was just dropping off to sleep when the striking of the clock aroused her. It was a very softly, silvery sounding clock; but it was enough to startle an irritable napper; and Elfie awoke with a spring, thinking that she had very nearly fallen asleep; but having no idea that she really had done so. The clock chimed twelve.