I could not help holding up the lantern to look in.

There was the bed, with its fair white covering and its smooth, soft pillows; there were the easy-chairs, the pretty curtains, the neat and cheerful carpet, the bureau, with Euphemia's work-basket on it; there was the little table with the book that we had been reading together, turned face downward upon it; there were my slippers; there was-- "Come!" said Euphemia, "I can't bear to look in there.

It's like a dead child." And so we hurried out into the night and the rain.

We stopped at the wood-shed and got an armful of dry kindling, which Euphemia was obliged to carry, as I had the bundle of bed-clothing, the umbrella, and the lantern.
Lord Edward gave a short, peculiar bark as we shut the gate behind us, but whether it was meant as a fond farewell, or a hoot of derision, I cannot say.
We found everything as we left it at the camp, and we made our beds apparently dry.

But I did not sleep well.