But once in the middle of the night Miss Thorne awakened with a mysterious shock to find the place at her side empty, and her niece sitting at the open window in a quiet which suggested that she might not have moved for an hour.
She obeyed her strong first impulse, and rose and went to her.
She laid her hand on her shoulder, and shook her gently.
“Beck!” she demanded, “what are you doing?”
When the girl turned slowly round, she started sit the sight of her cold, miserable pallor.
“I am doing nothing—nothing,” she answered. “Why did you get up? It's a fine night, isn't it?”
Despite her discretion, Miss Thorne broke down into a blunder.
“You—you never look like this in the daytime!” she exclaimed.
“No,” was the reply given with cool deliberateness. “No; I would rather die.”
For the moment she was fairly incomprehensible. There was in the set of her eye and the expression of her fair, clear face, the least hint of dogged obstinacy.