With another fleeting glance she had hurried downstairs, and from the house.
She thought about it now without arriving at any conclusion as to what it was that she had seen so indistinctly--whether man or rock.

Charles had been up there that night, but it was not Charles.

This figure or rock was on the other side of the house.
Stupor descended gradually on her tired brain like the coming of darkness, and she fell into sleep--the first rest that had visited her since she learnt of Charles's arrest.

But her slumber was disturbed by dreams.

She dreamt that she was back in Cornwall, sitting on her old perch at the foot of the cliffs, looking at the Moon Rock.