Notwithstanding her declaration in the locksmith's
presence, she was in no mood for sleep; so, putting her light upon the
table and withdrawing the little window curtain, she gazed out pensively
at the wild night sky.
Perhaps she wondered what star was destined for her habitation when
she had run her little course below; perhaps speculated which of those
glimmering spheres might be the natal orb of Mr Tappertit; perhaps
marvelled how they could gaze down on that perfidious creature, man, and
not sicken and turn green as chemists' lamps; perhaps thought of nothing
in particular. Whatever she thought about, there she sat, until her
attention, alive to anything connected with the insinuating 'prentice,
was attracted by a noise in the next room to her own--his room; the room
in which he slept, and dreamed--it might be, sometimes dreamed of her.
That he was not dreaming now, unless he was taking a walk in his sleep,
was clear, for every now and then there came a shuffling noise, as
though he were engaged in polishing the whitewashed wall; then a gentle
creaking of his door; then the faintest indication of his stealthy
footsteps on the landing-place outside. Noting this latter circumstance,
Miss Miggs turned pale and shuddered, as mistrusting his intentions; and
more than once exclaimed, below her breath, 'Oh! what a Providence it
is, as I am bolted in!'--which, owing doubtless to her alarm, was a
confusion of ideas on her part between a bolt and its use; for though
there was one on the door, it was not fastened.
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