“Clare alone was awake.
“By her open chamber window the pale-faced girl sat, gazing abroad upon the silvery landscape, deep in thought.
“Boughs of lofty chesnut-trees, swaying in the breeze, swept against the house.
“Perfume from gardens and orchards filled the air.
“Time passed slowly on; troubled with thoughts and misgivings that cankered her heart, she wept.
“Rousing from melancholy lethargy, she rose, and in part disrobed, as she gazed in the mirror upon her pale and thoughtful face, half concealed by heavy masses of raven tresses, loose about her shoulders. In dishabille as she was, she sat beside her snow-white bed.
“She rose, and, deep in thought, with dishevelled hair and flowing garments, clasped her hands and moved her lips, as she gazed on the dark and lofty towers of the distant college.
“How long she sat communing thus alone, or the nature of her thoughts, none can know.
“But as the moon was dipping beyond the trees, her door noiselessly opened, and closed again, and there flitted across the floor towards her a figure in white. It was Lady Bray.
“‘A thousand pardons, dear Clare!’ she said, embracing her. ‘I could not sleep—you seem so changed of late, I fear you are unwell, and wish to conceal it from both your father and me! Oh, Clare, if you only knew how much I love you—how your father idolizes, and every one doats upon you—I’m sure you would be more happy.’ (No response). ‘Come, Clare, my dear, dear cousin, tell me what it is. There is nothing in the world that is too good for you; all that wealth and affection can do is already yours, and yet you, to whom the best and wealthiest have bowed and begged—you, my cousin, who are the idol of all—you who should be the happiest of all—you, dear Clare, seem unhappy—sorrow is gnawing at your heart; make me your confidante, darling, tell me all!’