When she had dismissed him, saying she needed no more today (it being now pretty nigh sundown, for I have bridged over many things), but would have her breakfast brought the next morning at seven, she came back to me, and we continued to talk of our escape, like any children of air-castles, till the light faded.
And then with some trouble I began to see that I must presently go out of that chamber; and also I think Lady Biddy grew uneasy as to how I might conduct myself in the darkness of night, and she, so to speak, at my mercy.
Again the outer door opened; and this time the boy came to light the hanging lantern. She left the between door open when the lamp was lit and the boy again gone, and by a more cheerful bearing seemed to feel more security for this light.
"Presently," says I, "you will go in and put out that lamp."
"Why? Is it not more cheerful to have a light?" says she.
"Yes," says I, "but with that light burning I dare not go through the next cabin."
"Through it!" says she, in wonder, and yet with a little fear in her tone; "whither are you going?"
"Out on the gallery," says I, "where I shall sleep very safely till the morning."
This would she not hear of, but would have me lie in her room while she reposed on the sofett in the next; that would I not allow, and so at length we compromised it in this wise: she kept her own chamber after putting out the lamp, and I, having bolted the door in the outer cabin, lay myself on the cushions, she giving me her cloak that I might wrap it about me and so seem to be she if by accident she so overslept herself that she could not admit me to the inner chamber before daybreak.
And so with the cloak that she had worn on her dear body pressed to my lips, I fell asleep that night a happier man than ever before I had been in all my life.