"My grandmother sighed again, and I held my breath, hoping for some
further particulars of the lovely heroine of this romance. But I was
disappointed. My uncle's voice at this moment called loudly from
below, and Aunt Harriet hurried off with a conscious meritoriousness
about her, becoming a lady who had married the right man, and took
great care of him.

"'Supper, ma'am. I think,' she said, as she left the room.

"My grandmother sat still by the fire, sighing gently now and then,
and I lay making up my mind to brave all and tell her that I was
awake. In the first place (although I was not intentionally
eavesdropping, and my being awake was certainly not my fault), I felt
rather uneasy at having overheard what I knew was not intended for my
hearing. Besides this, I wanted to hear some more stories of the
lovely Mrs. Moss, and to ask how soon she would come to the manor.
After a few seconds my grandmother rose and toddled across the room.
I made an effort, and spoke just above my breath:

"'Granny!'

"But my grandmother was rather deaf. Moreover, my voice may have been
drowned in the heavy sigh with which she closed the nursery door.

"The room was empty again; the glare of the red screen was tenderly
subdued in the firelight; but for all this I did not go to sleep. I
took advantage of my freedom to sit up in bed, toss my hair from my
forehead, and clasping my knees with my arms, to rock myself and
think. My thoughts had one object; my whole mind was filled with one
image--Mrs. Moss. The future inhabitant of my dear deserted manor