They had but four rooms in the cottage. Margaret slept in the biggest
room up-stairs, and her grand-daughter in a kind of closet adjoining,
where she could be within hearing, if her grandmother should call her
in the night.
The girl was often disturbed in that manner--two or three times in a
night she has been forced to leave her bed, to fetch her
grandmother's cordials, or do some little service for her--but she
knew that Margaret's ailings were _real_ and pressing, and Rosamund
never complained--never suspected, that her grandmother's
requisitions had anything unreasonable in them.
The night she parted with Miss Clare, she had helped Margaret to bed,
as usual--and, after saying her prayers, as the custom was, kneeling
by the old lady's bedside, kissed her grandmother, and wished her a
good-night--Margaret blessed her, and charged her to go to bed
directly. It was her customary injunction, and Rosamund had never
dreamed of disobeying.
So she retired to her little room. The night was warm and clear--the
moon very bright--her window commanded a view of _scenes_ she had
been tracing in the daytime with Miss Clare.
All the events of the day past, the occurrences of their walk arose
in her mind. She fancied she should like to retrace those scenes--but
it was now nine o'clock, a late hour in the village.
Still she fancied it would be very charming--and then her
grandmother's injunction came powerfully to her recollection--she
sighed, and turned from the window-and walked up and down her little
room.
Ever, when she looked at the window, the wish returned. It was not so
_very late_. The neighbors were yet about, passing under the window
to their homes--she thought, and thought again, till her sensations
became vivid, even to painfulness--her bosom was aching to give them
vent.
The village-clock struck ten!--the neighbors ceased to pass under the
window. Rosamund, stealing downstairs, fastened the latch behind her,
and left the cottage.
One, that knew her, met her, and observed her with some surprise.
Another recollects having wished her a good-night. Rosamund never
returned to the cottage.
An old man, that lay sick in a small house adjoining to Margaret's,
testified the next morning, that he had plainly heard the old
creature calling for her granddaughter. All the night long she made
her moan, and ceased not to call upon the name of Rosamund. But no
Rosamund was there--the voice died away, but not till near daybreak.
When the neighbors came to search in the morning, Margaret was
missing! She had _straggled_ out of bed, and made her way into
Rosamund's room--worn out with fatigue and fright, when she found the
girl not there, she had laid herself down to die--and, it is thought,
she died _praying_--for she was discovered in a kneeling posture, her
arms and face extended on the pillow, where Rosamund had slept the
night before--a smile was on her face in death.
* * * * *