The fire sank into ashes unheeded.
I sat alone at my attic window for hours, waiting for the doctor.

From the attic I could see nearly all Thrums, but, until very late, the night was dark, and the brae, except immediately before the door, was blurred and dim.

A sheet of light canopied the square as long as a cheap Jack paraded his goods there.

It was gone before the moon came out.

Figures tramped, tramped up the brae, passed the house in shadow and stole silently on.