She loved her little isolated refuge.

This night it was cold, the first time this autumn, and the lighted lamp, though brightening the room, did not make it appreciably warmer.

There was a stone fireplace, but as she had neglected to bring in wood she could not start a fire.

So she undressed, blew out the lamp, and went to bed.

Columbine was soon warm, and the darkness of her little room seemed good to her.