Which of the houses was hers?
Which was the window of her chamber! Did it look into the street?
What business had his fancy with woman's chambers ?....

But that one open window, with the lamp burning bright inside--he could not help looking up to it--he could not help fancying--hoping.

He even moved a few yards to see better the bright interior of the room.

High up as it was, he could still discern shelves of books--pictures on the walls.

Was that a voice?
Yes! a woman's voice--reading aloud in metre--was plainly distinguishable in the dead stillness of the night, which did not even awaken a whisper in the trees above his head.