Then she closed every window-shutter and drew down every window-shade and let down the heavy moreen curtains, making all dark.
Then she returned to the parlor, closed the intervening door and threw herself into the rocking-chair and closed her eyes in the vain endeavor to rest and sleep.
But sleep and rest were far from her that night.
The clock struck one.
All sounds even about that busy hotel gradually ceased. The house was still, awfully still, yet she could not sleep.
The clock struck two.
She started up with a shiver, exclaiming:
"I can not sleep; but I can go to bed and lie there."
And she went into her own room and went to bed, but not to rest.
She heard the clock strike in succession every hour of the night, until it finally struck four.