She paused as she reached the landing, with the drawing-room door on her right, Lady Teigne's bedroom before her, and, down a short passage on her left, her father's room. Isaac slept in his pantry, by the empty plate-chest and the wineless cellar. Morton's room was next her own, on the upper floor, and the maids slept at the back. The only sound to be heard was the faint wash of the waves as they curled over upon the shingle where the tide was going out. "It must have been fancy," said Claire, after listening intently; and she stood there with the light throwing up the eager look upon her face, with her lips half parted, and a tremulous motion about her well-cut nostrils as her bosom rose and fell. Then, drawing a breath full of relief, she turned to go, the horror that had assailed her dying off; for ever since Lady Teigne had been beneath their roof, Claire had been haunted by the idea that some night she would be called up at a time when the visit her ladyship insisted in every act was so far off had been paid. Feeling for the moment, then, satisfied that she had been deceived, Claire ascended three or four stairs, her sweet face growing composed, and the soft, rather saddened smile that generally sat upon her lips gradually returning, when, as if moved by a fresh impulse, she descended again, listened, and then softly turned the handle of the door, and entered. She did not close the door behind her, only letting it swing to, and then, raising the candle above her head, glanced round. There was nothing to take her attention. The curtain of the bed was drawn along by the head, and in an untidy way, leaving the end of the bolster exposed. But that only indicated that the fidgety, querulous old woman had fancied she could feel a draught from the folding-doors that led into the drawing-room, and she had often drawn them like that before. "She is fast asleep," thought Claire. The girl was right; Lady Teigne was fast asleep. "If I let the light fall upon her face it will wake her," she said to herself. But it was an error; the light Claire Denville carried was too dim for that. Still she hesitated to approach the bedside, knowing that unless she took her opiate medicine Lady Teigne's night's rest was of a kind that rendered her peevish and irritable the whole of the next day, and as full of whims as some fretful child. She seemed to be sleeping so peacefully that Claire once more glanced round the room prior to returning to bed. The folding-doors were closed so that there could be no draught. The glass of lemonade was on the little table on the other side of the bed, on which ticked the little old carriage-clock, for Lady Teigne was always anxious about the lapse of time. The jewel-casket was on the--