Dodd awoke in the middle of that very night in a
mysterious state of mental tremor; trouble, veiled in obscurity, seemed
to sit heavy on her bosom. So strong, though vague, was this new and
mysterious oppression, that she started up in bed and cried aloud,
"David!--Julia!--Oh, what is the matter?" The sound of her own voice
dispelled the cloud in part, but not entirely. She lay awhile, and then
finding herself quite averse to sleep, rose and went to her window, and
eyed the weather anxiously. It was a fine night; soft fleecy clouds
drifted slowly across a silver moon. The sailor's wife was reassured on
her husband's behalf. Her next desire was to look at Julia sleeping; she
had no particular object: it was the instinctive impulse of an anxious
mother whom something had terrified. She put on her slippers and
dressing-gown, and, lighting a candle at her night-lamp, opened her door
softly and stepped into the little corridor. But she had not taken two
steps when she was arrested by a mysterious sound.
It came from Julia's room.
What was it?
Mrs. Dodd glided softly nearer and nearer, all her senses on the stretch.
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