“We will do our best should there be one,” said both gentlemen.
In less than half an hour after the party had broken up all the inmates of Oakfield House were soundly sleeping.
All save one.
This was Jane Ryan, the girl who had exchanged a few parting words with her master, or, more properly speaking, with one of her masters, for John and Richard Ashbrook were partners.
A strange sense of coming evil had taken possession of the girl, who sat moodily and dejected in the kitchen long after the other members of the household had retired to rest. Jane did not feel disposed to seek repose; she was restless and disturbed, albeit she was quiet, moving from place to place in a stealthy way, in direct variance with her usual manner.
“I cannot sleep,” she murmured; “and so I will e’en keep watch for one hour or more.”
She put some fresh coals on the kitchen fire, before which she sat for some time absorbed in thought.
Leaving her there, we will take a survey of the exterior of the house and its surroundings.
It was two o’clock in the morning. The rain had ceased; the moon was shining brightly, and covered the fields with a pale, lustrous light; the stars sparkled in the rain-drops which were hanging from the leaves, and so clothed the trees with a mantle of diamonds.
All was silent in the fields, for the birds and insects of the night were torpid till summer came once more.