By and by Jessie's feet coming along the corridor were distinctly heard. She opened door after door, and her cheerful "Good-night, dear," or "Sleep well, my love," sounded like the note of a watchman. Christian's door was open wide; Jessie advanced a foot or two into the room.
"Are you in bed, Christian?"
"Yes."
"Are you comfortable, darling?"
"Yes, thank you, Jessie."
"Then good-night, dear; sleep well."
"Thank you, Jessie; good-night."
The door was shut, and Miss Jessie trotted downstairs. She called the girls of the White Corridor her own special babies, and of them all she loved Christian the best. She could not tell exactly why, but the young girl had found a place in her heart from the very first.
Christian lay quiet for the best part of half an hour; then she rose very softly, and taking up a somewhat heavy basket which she had placed under the bed, crept step by step towards the door. She had managed in the daytime to oil the lock, and it now opened without the least sound. When she got into the corridor the moonlight filled the place with a white radiance; and standing there, as though waiting for her, were Susan Marsh, Maud Thompson, and Janet Bouverie. Susan gave her a nod of approval, and going on in front, approached the stairs which led to the front attic. They all went up in single file, sometimes, notwithstanding every effort, stepping on a creaking board. They reached the door of the attic. Susan took a key out of her pocket, unlocked it, and they entered.
Susan then made certain preparations. She lit three or four candles, not by any means making the illumination which had taken place on the night of Christian's initiation. She drew forward a chair for herself, and an old wooden box turned upside down and one or two stools for her companions.