In an hour Mrs Sullivan was in bed, expecting her husband every minute, listening at the slightest sound for his footsteps; but two o'clock came, and he was still away.

She could bear up against her suspense and agitation no longer; she rose, threw on her _robe de nuit_, and descended the stairs.

All the family had long retired, and everything was still: her light foot made no noise as she tripped along.

As she neared the door she perceived the light gleaming through the key-hole.

Whether to peep or to speak first--he might be fast asleep.