`Let us begin,' I said, `with what happened after we had wished each other good night. Did you go to bed? or did you sit up?'

`I went to bed.'

`Did you notice the time? Was it late?'

`Not very. About twelve o'clock, I think.'

`Did you fall asleep?'

`No. I couldn't sleep that night.'

`You were restless?'

`I was thinking of you.'

The answer almost unmanned me. Something in the tone, even more than in the words, went straight to my heart. It was only after pausing a little first that I was able to go on.

`Had you any light in your room?' I asked.

`None -- until I got up again, and lit my candle.'

`How long was that, after you had gone to bed?'

`About an hour after, I think. About one o'clock.'

`Did you leave your bedroom?'

`I was going to leave it. I had put on my dressing-gown; and I was going into my sitting-room to get a book --'

`Had you opened your bedroom door?'

`I had just opened it.'

`But you had not gone into the sitting-room?'

`No -- I was stopped from going into it.'

`What stopped you?'

`I saw a light, under the door; and I heard footsteps approaching it.'

`Were you frightened?'

`Not then. I knew my poor mother was a bad sleeper; and I remembered that she had tried hard, that evening, to persuade me to let her take charge of my Diamond. She was unreasonably anxious about it, as I thought; and I fancied she was coming to me to see if I was in bed, and to speak to me about the Diamond again, if she found that I was up.'

`What did you do?'

`I blew out my candle, so that she might think I was in bed. I was unreasonable, on my side -- I was determined to keep my Diamond in the place of my own choosing.'