How it all happened, no one could tell, unless it was a miracle.
CHAPTER XV
I come, my love; I come.
One lonely candle, or to speak more strictly a bit of one, sputtered in its silver socket in the cosy drawing-room; and a single moonbeam found its way in through the draperies of the window leading to the terrace and to St. James’s Park.
Moll lay upon a couch asleep; but it was a restless sleep.
The voice of a town-crier resounded faintly across the park: “Midnight; and all is well.”
She started up and rubbed her eyes in a bewildered way.
“The midnight crier!” she thought; and there was a troubled expression in her face. “I have been asleep and the candle’s nearly out.”
She jumped to her feet and hastily lighted two or three of its more substantial mates, of which there was an abundance in the rich candelabra about the room.