Her heart fluttered wildly.
Then she opened her eyes.

Alice Manisty had sprung up, had gone to the window, and flung back the muslin curtains.

Lucy could see her now quite plainly in the moonlight--the haggard energy of look and movement, the wild dishevelled hair.
'I knew the end was come--this afternoon,' said the hurrying voice.

'When I came out to you, as I walked along the terrace--the sun went out! I saw it turn black above the Campagna--all in a moment--and I said to myself, "What will the world do without the sun ?--how will it live ?" And now--do you see ?'--she raised her arm, and Lucy saw it for an instant as a black bar against the window, caught the terrible dignity of gesture,--'there is not one moon--but many! Look at them! How they hurry through the clouds--one after the other! Do you understand what that means?
Perhaps not--for your sight is not like mine.

But I know.