Withdraw, my love, but don't go to bed until I see you again." Helen went upstairs with a light foot and a bounding heart.

A certain hope, like a dream of far-off and unexpected happiness, rushed into and filled her bosom with a crowd of sensations so delicious that, on reaching her own room, she felt completely overpowered by them, and was only relieved by a burst of tears.

There was now but one image before her imagination, but one image impressed upon her pure and fervent heart; that image was the first that love had ever stamped there, and the last that suffering, sorrow, madness, and death were ever able to tear from it.
When the night had advanced to the usual hour for retiring to rest, it was deemed necessary to make Helen acquainted with the meditated outrage, in order to prevent the consequences of a nocturnal alarm for which she might be altogether unprepared.

This was accordingly done, and her natural terrors were soothed and combated by Reilly and her father, who succeeded in reviving her courage, and in enabling her to contemplate what was to happen with tolerable composure.
Until about the hour of two o'clock every thing regained silent.

Nobody went to bed--the male servants were all prepared--the females, some in tears, and others sustaining and comforting those who were more feeble-hearted.