"Is the night calm, Constance?" "Beautiful the moon is up." "Open the shutters wider, there. It is a beautiful night. How beautiful Come hither, my child." The rich moonlight that now shone through the windows streamed on little that it could invest with poetical attraction. The room was small, though not squalid in its character and appliances. The bed-curtains, of a dull chintz, were drawn back, and showed the form of a man, past middle age, propped...