Stockdale now began to notice more particularly a feature in thelife of his fair landlady, which he had casually observed butscarcely ever thought of before. It was that she was markedlyirregular in her hours of rising. For a week or two she would betolerably punctual, reaching the ground-floor within a few minutesof half-past seven. Then suddenly she would not be visible tilltwelve at noon, perhaps for three or four days in succession; andtwice he had certain proof that she did not leave her room tillhalf-past three in the afternoon. The second time that this extremelateness came under his notice was on a day when he had particularlywished to consult with her about his future movements; and heconcluded, as he always had done, that she had a cold, headache, orother ailment, unless she had kept herself invisible to avoidmeeting and talking to him, which he could hardly believe. Theformer supposition was disproved, however, by her innocently saying,some days later, when they were speaking on a question of health,that she had never had a moment's heaviness, headache, or illness ofany kind since the previous January twelvemonth.

　　'I am glad to hear it,' said he. 'I thought quite otherwise.'

　　'What, do I look sickly?' she asked, turning up her face to show theimpossibility of his gazing on it and holding such a belief for amoment.

　　'Not at all; I merely thought so from your being sometimes obligedto keep your room through the best part of the day.'

　　'O, as for that--it means nothing,' she murmured, with a look whichsome might have called cold, and which was the worst look that heliked to see upon her. 'It is pure sleepiness, Mr. Stockdale.'

　　'Never!'

　　'It is, I tell you. When I stay in my room till half-past three inthe afternoon, you may always be sure that I slept soundly tillthree, or I shouldn't have stayed there.'

　　'It is dreadful,' said Stockdale, thinking of the disastrous effectsof such indulgence upon the household of a minister, should itbecome a habit of everyday occurrence.

　　'But then,' she said, divining his good and prescient thoughts, 'itonly happens when I stay awake all night. I don't go to sleep tillfive or six in the morning sometimes.'

　　'Ah, that's another matter,' said Stockdale. 'Sleeplessness to suchan alarming extent is real illness. Have you spoken to a doctor?'

　　'O no--there is no need for doing that--it is all natural to me.'

　　And she went away without further remark.

　　Stockdale might have waited a long time to know the real cause ofher sleeplessness, had it not happened that one dark night he wassitting in his bedroom jotting down notes for a sermon, whichoccupied him perfunctorily for a considerable time after the othermembers of the household had retired. He did not get to bed tillone o'clock. Before he had fallen asleep he heard a knocking at thefront door, first rather timidly performed, and then louder. Nobodyanswered it, and the person knocked again. As the house stillremained undisturbed, Stockdale got out of bed, went to his window,which overlooked the door, and opening it, asked who was there.

　　A young woman's voice replied that Susan Wallis was there, and thatshe had come to ask if Mrs. Newberry could give her some mustard tomake a plaster with, as her father was taken very ill on the chest.

　　The minister, having neither bell nor servant, was compelled to actin person. 'I will call Mrs. Newberry,' he said. Partly dressinghimself; he went along the passage and tapped at Lizzy's door. Shedid not answer, and, thinking of her erratic habits in the matter ofsleep, he thumped the door persistently, when he discovered, by itsmoving ajar under his knocking, that it had only been gently pushedto. As there was now a sufficient entry for the voice, he knockedno longer, but said in firm tones, 'Mrs. Newberry, you are wanted.'

　　The room was quite silent; not a breathing, not a rustle, came fromany part of it. Stockdale now sent a positive shout through theopen space of the door: 'Mrs. Newberry!'--still no answer, ormovement of any kind within. Then he heard sounds from the oppositeroom, that of Lizzy's mother, as if she had been aroused by hisuproar though Lizzy had not, and was dressing herself hastily.

　　Stockdale softly closed the younger woman's door and went on to theother, which was opened by Mrs. Simpkins before he could reach it.

　　She was in her ordinary clothes, and had a light in her hand.

　　'What's the person calling about?' she said in alarm.

　　Stockdale told the girl's errand, adding seriously, 'I cannot wakeMrs. Newberry.'

　　'It is no matter,' said her mother. 'I can let the girl have whatshe wants as well as my daughter.' And she came out of the room andwent downstairs.

　　Stockdale retired towards his own apartment, saying, however, toMrs. Simpkins from the landing, as if on second thoughts, 'I supposethere is nothing the matter with Mrs. Newberry, that I could notwake her?'

　　'O no,' said the old lady hastily. 'Nothing at all.'

　　Still the minister was not satisfied. 'Will you go in and see?' hesaid. 'I should be much more at ease.'

　　Mrs. Simpkins returned up the staircase, went to her daughter'sroom, and came out again almost instantly. 'There is nothing at allthe matter with Lizzy,' she said; and descended again to attend tothe applicant, who, having seen the light, had remained quiet duringthis interval.

　　Stockdale went into his room and lay down as before. He heardLizzy's mother open the front door, admit the girl, and then themurmured discourse of both as they went to the store-cupboard forthe medicament required. The girl departed, the door was fastened,Mrs. Simpkins came upstairs, and the house was again in silence.

　　Still the minister did not fall asleep. He could not get rid of asingular suspicion, which was all the more harassing in being, iftrue, the most unaccountable thing within his experience. ThatLizzy Newberry was in her bedroom when he made such a clamour at thedoor he could not possibly convince himself; notwithstanding that hehad heard her come upstairs at the usual time, go into her chamber,and shut herself up in the usual way. Yet all reason was so muchagainst her being elsewhere, that he was constrained to go backagain to the unlikely theory of a heavy sleep, though he had heardneither breath nor movement during a shouting and knocking loudenough to rouse the Seven Sleepers.

　　Before coming to any positive conclusion he fell asleep himself, anddid not awake till day. He saw nothing of Mrs. Newberry in themorning, before he went out to meet the rising sun, as he liked todo when the weather was fine; but as this was by no means unusual,he took no notice of it. At breakfast-time he knew that she was notfar off by hearing her in the kitchen, and though he saw nothing ofher person, that back apartment being rigorously closed against hiseyes, she seemed to be talking, ordering, and bustling about amongthe pots and skimmers in so ordinary a manner, that there was noreason for his wasting more time in fruitless surmise.

　　The minister suffered from these distractions, and his extemporizedsermons were not improved thereby. Already he often said Romans forCorinthians in the pulpit, and gave out hymns in strange crampedmetres, that hitherto had always been skipped, because thecongregation could not raise a tune to fit them. He fully resolvedthat as soon as his few weeks of stay approached their end he wouldcut the matter short, and commit himself by propos............