When we came home, and washed our feet, and said a prayer of thankfulness together, I brought her to bed. Before falling asleep she asked – even implored – me not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about her sleep-walking adventure. I thought it wiser to do so. I hope I did right.

Same day, noon. – All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her. She looks better this morning than before. I was sorry to notice that I hurt her with the safety-pin. Indeed, it can be serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. There are two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of blood. When I apologized, she laughed, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it is so tiny.

Same day, night. – We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave Woods.[98] In the evening we heard some good music by Spohr and Mackenzie,[99] and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door and secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any trouble tonight.

12 August. – My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I was wakened by Lucy. She was trying to get out. I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and, I was glad to see, was even better than on the previous morning. She came and snuggled in beside me and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded somewhat.

13 August. – Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed, still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and looked out. It was brilliant moonlight. Between me and the moonlight flitted a great bat. Once or twice it came quite close. When I came back from the window Lucy had lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again all night.

14 August. – On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. This afternoon Lucy made a funny remark. We were coming home for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun was bathing everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a while, and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself, “His red eyes again! They are just the same.”

It was such an odd expression, that it quite startled me. Lucy was in a half-dreamy state,[100] with an odd look on her face; so I said nothing, but followed her eyes. She was looking at the bench, whereon was a dark figure. I was a little frightened; but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary’s Church.[101] Lucy looked sad; so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a while.

I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When I was coming home, I looked at our window, and saw Lucy’s head. I thought that perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice. Just then the light fell on the window. Lucy was asleep, and by her, was something that looked like a giant bird. I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was lying in her bed, she was breathing heavily; and she was holding her hand to her throat.