As the teacher read on, her color changed, and a kind of tremulous agitation came over her.

There were hints in this strange paper she did not know what to make of.

There was something in its descriptions and imagery that recalled,--Miss Darley could not say what,--but it made her frightfully nervous.

Still she could not help reading, till she came to one passage which so agitated her, that the tired and over-wearied girl's self-control left her entirely.

She sobbed once or twice, then laughed convulsively; and flung herself on the bed, where she worked out a set hysteric spasm as she best might, without anybody to rub her hands and see that she did not hurt herself.
By and by she got quiet, rose and went to her bookcase, took down a volume of Coleridge, and read a short time, and so to bed, to sleep and wake from time to time with a sudden start out of uneasy dreams.
Perhaps it is of no great consequence what it was in the composition which set her off into this nervous paroxysm.