feverish restlessness which is sure to succeed exhaustion was yet to come.
The noise of relieving the guard at the door of the chamber first roused her. Some one looked in, but, apparently satisfied, did not enter; and again all was silent, save the tramp of heavy steps up and down the gallery. Francesca gazed around; the dim lump was flickering in the socket, and spread a far black shadow; a cold gray light came through the dusty and broken windows, while the unfurnished and disconsolate chamber, floor, and walls, discoloured with neglect and time, added to the gloomy influence of the scene.
The first struggle between light and darkness is a dreary hour,—the air is so raw, so cold; the want of rest is then most severely felt; sleep avenges itself for its dismissal by sending stupor in its place; and the relaxed nerves and worn-out spirits presage the misfortunes which they yet lack strength to meet. All the annoyance to which she might presently be subjected, all the misconception to which her conduct was liable, rose gloomily upon her mind. With feverish impatience she watched the objects grow more and more distinct, while the perpetual pacing of the sentinel outside seemed insupportable to her jaded hearing. A rosier tint came upon the atmosphere,
