Charlie would not permit him to attempt to walk; and they procured a carriage, in which they rode to within a short distance of the house.  The mansion of Mr. Bates appeared quite gloomy as they approached it.  The blinds were down, and no lights visible in any part of the house.

“I am afraid they are out of town,” remarked Charlie, when Clarence pointed out the house; “everything looks so dull about it.  Let us cross over to the other pavement.”  And they walked over to the other side of the street, and gazed upward at the house.

“Let us sit down here,” suggested Clarence,—­“here, on this broad stone; it is quite dark now, and no one will observe us.”

“No, no!” remonstrated Charlie; “the stone is too damp and cold.”

“Is it?” said Clarence vacantly.  And taking out his handkerchief, he spread it out, and, in spite of Charlie’s dissuasions, sat down upon it.

“Charlie,” said he, after gazing at the house a long time in silence, “I have often come here and remained half the night looking at her windows.  People have passed by and stared at me as though they thought me crazy; I was half crazy then, I think.  One night I remember I came and sat here for hours; far in the night I saw her come to the window, throw up the casement, and look out.  That was in the summer, before I went away, you know.  There she stood in the moonlight, gazing upward at the sky, so pale, so calm and holy-looking, in her pure white dress, that I should not have thought it strange if the heavens had opened, and angels descended and borne her away with them on their wings.”  And Clarence closed his eyes as he concluded, to call back upon the mirror of his mind the image of little Birdie as she appeared that night.

They waited a long while, during which there was no evidence exhibited that there was any one in the house.  At last, just as they were about to move away, they descried the glimmer of a light in the room which Clarence declared to be her room.  His frame trembled with expectation, and he walked to and fro opposite the house with an apparent strength that surprised his companion.  At length the light disappeared again, and with it Clarence’s hopes.

“Now then we must go,” said Charlie, “it is useless for you to expose yourself in this manner.  I insist upon your coming home.”

Reluctantly Clarence permitted himself to be led across the street again.  As they were leaving the pavement, he turned to look back again, and, uttering a cry of surprise and joy, he startled Charlie by clutching his arm.  “Look! look!” he cried, “there she is—­my little Birdie.”  Charlie looked up at the window almost immediately above them, and observed a slight pale girl, who was gazing up the street in an opposite direction.

“Little Birdie—­little Birdie,” whispered Clarence, tenderly.  She did not look toward them, but after standing there a few seconds, moved from between the curtains and disappeared.