'A little life!' she said half-aloud, 'A little _wickedness!_' and she shook her curly head defiantly.
A few minutes later, in the little drawing-room on the other side of the hall, Catherine and Rose stood together by the open window.

For the first time in a lingering spring, the air was soft and balmy; a tender grayness lay over the valley; it was not night, though above the clear outline's of the fell the stars were just twinkling in the pale blue.
Far away under the crag on the further side of High Fell a light was shining.

As Catherine's eyes caught it there was a quick response in the fine Madonna-like face.
'Any news for me from the Backhouses this afternoon ?' she asked Rose.
'No, I heard of none.

How is she ?' 'Dying,' said Catherine simply, and stood a moment looking out.

Rose did not interrupt her.