CHAPTER V.



The vigils of the night had been as unwonted for Lucy as for her
sister, and she slept soundly till Rose was already up and dressed.
Her first reflection was on the strange sights she had seen, followed
by a doubt whether they were real, or only a dream; but she was
certain it was no such thing; she recollected too well the chill of
the stone to her feet, and the sound of the blasts of wind. She
wondered over it, wished to make out the cause, but decided that she
should only be scolded for peeping, and she had better keep her own
counsel.

That Lucy should keep silence when she thought she knew more than
other people was, however, by no means to be expected; and though she
would say not a word to her mother or Rose, of whom she was afraid,
she was quite ready to make the most of her knowledge with Eleanor.

When she came down stairs she found Walter, with his elbows on the
table and his book before him, learning the task which his mother
required of him every day; Eleanor had just come in with her lapfull
of the still lingering flowers, and called her to help to make them
up into nosegays.

Lucy came and sat down by her on the floor, but paid little attention
to the flowers, so intent was she on showing her knowledge.

"Ah! you don't know what I have seen."