The candles, too, had burned out, and the moon-beams were streaming through the window; but had it been dark he would scarce have been aware of it.

The house had long ago been hushed in repose, and yet Richard felt certain that he had heard a movement in the passage.
A stealthy step, yet not that of thief or burglar; a fairy footfall, rather, which was music to his ear.

His heart leaped up to tell him that on the other side of the door was Harry Trevethick.

He held his breath, and trembled--not for fear.

Was it possible that, knowing he was sitting there alone, she had come down of her own choice to bear him company?
Had her father told her something--some glad tidings which she could not keep from her lover even for a night?
Or, filled with sweet dreams of him, as he of her, had she risen in her sleep, and been drawn involuntarily toward him by the loadstone of love?
But--hark! The bolt that fastened the house-door was softly drawn, and the latch gently lifted.