Curiosity prevailed--she looked through the key-hole, and perceived her husband very busy writing.
After he had finished his letter he threw down the pen, pressed his forehead with both hands, and groaned deeply.

Mrs Sullivan could refrain no longer.

"William! William!" cried she, in a soft, imploring voice: but she was not answered.

Again and again did she repeat his name, until an answer, evidently wrung from him by impatience, was returned--"It is too late now." "Too late, dear William! Yes, it is very late--it's almost three o'clock.
Let me in, William--pray do!" "Leave me alone: it's the last favour I shall probably ever request of you." "The last favour! Oh, William! you frighten me so:--dear William--do--do let me in.

I'm so cold--I shall die:--only for one moment, and I'll bless you.