The Third Vision

As far as Sir Norman could see, no other human being but himself and
the solitary watchman, so often mentioned, were visible. Even he could
scarcely be said to be present; for, though leaning against the house
with his halberd on his shoulder, he was sound asleep at his post, and
far away in the land of dreams. It was the second night of his watch;
and with a good conscience and a sound digestion, there is no earthly
anguish short of the toothache, strong enough to keep a man awake two
nights in succession. So sound were his balmy slumbers in his airy
chamber, that not even the loud clatter of Sir Norman's horse's hoofs
proved strong enough to arouse him; and that young gentleman, after
glancing at him, made ap his mind to try to find out for himself before
arousing him to seek information.

Securing his home, he looked up at the house with wistful eyes, and saw
that the solitary light still burned in her chamber. It struck him
now how very imprudent it was to keep that lamp burning; for if Count
L'Estrange saw it, it was all up with Leoline--and there was even
more to be dreaded from him than from the earl. How was he to find
out whether that illuminated chamber had a tenant or not? Certainly,
standing there staring till doomsday would not do it; and there seemed
but two ways, that of entering the house at once or arousing the man.
But the man was sleeping so soundly that it seemed a pity to awake
him for a trifle; and, after all, there could be no great harm or
indiscretion in his entering to see if his bride was safe. Probably
Leoline was asleep, and would know nothing about it; or, even were she
wide awake, and watchful, she was altogether too sensible a girl to
be displeased at his anxiety about her. If she were still awake, and
waiting for day-dawn, he resolved to remain with her and keep her from
feeling lonesome until that time came--if she were asleep, he would
steal out softly again, and keep guard at her door until morning.