`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.'