so? Could it be the shadow and chill of coming insanity?

Once or twice, when her sister urged her with tears and entreaties to
disclose the secret of her changed spirits and demeanour, she seemed to
listen with a sort of silent wonder and suspicion, and then she looked
for a moment full upon her, and seemed on the very point of revealing
all. But the earnest dilated gaze stole downward to the floor, and
subsided into an odd wily smile, and she began to whisper to herself,
and the smile and the whisper were both a mystery to Alice.

She and Alice slept in the same bedroom--a chamber in a projecting
tower--which on their arrival, when poor Una was so merry, they had hung
round with old tapestry, and decorated fantastically according to their
skill and frolic. One night, as they went to bed, Una said, as if
speaking to herself----

"'Tis my last night in this room--I shall sleep no more with Alice."

"And what has poor Alice done, Una, to deserve your strange unkindness?"

Una looked on her curiously, and half frightened, and then the odd smile
stole over her face like a gleam of moonlight.

"My poor Alice, what have you to do with it?" she whispered.

"And why do you talk of sleeping no more with me?" said Alice.

"Why? Alice dear--no why--no reason--only a knowledge that it must be
so, or Una will die."