Brother, by the memory of our own mother, I command you to let me look, for the last time, upon my boy's face!" As Catherine said this, standing in that lonely street--darkness and solitude below, God and the stars above--there was about her a majesty which awed the listener.

Though she was so near, her features were not very clearly visible; but her attitude--her hand raised aloft--the outline of her wasted but still commanding form, were more impressive from the shadowy dimness of the air.
"Come round, Catherine," said Mr.Morton after a pause; "I will admit you." He shut the window, stole to the door, unbarred it gently, and admitted his visitor.

He bade her follow him; and, shading the light with his hand, crept up the stairs.

Catherine's step made no sound.
They passed, unmolested, and unheard, the room in which the wife was drowsily reading, according to her custom before she tied her nightcap and got into bed, a chapter in some pious book.

They ascended to the chamber where Sidney lay; Morton opened the door cautiously, and stood at the threshold, so holding the candle that its light might not wake the child, though it sufficed to guide Catherine to the bed.