"I know," said Mrs. Caird, "it is
'All Life moving to one measure,
Daily bread! Daily bread!
Bread of Life, and bread of Labor,
Bread of bitterness and sorrow,
Hand to mouth, and no to-morrow.'
Good night, Ian. Go to sleep as soon as you can."
How soon he kept this promise he never could remember; he only knew that when he awakened he was drenched with the sweat of terror and trembling from head to feet. "Who am I? Where am I?" he asked, as he fumbled with the Venetian blind until it somehow went up and let in the early dawning. Then he noticed the dripping condition of his night clothing, and he hurried to his bed and cried out in a low, shocked voice, "The sheets are wet! The pillow is wet! What can it mean? What has happened? Oh, I remember!" And he covered his face with his hands and his very soul shuddered within him.
Then his wet clothing shocked and frightened him, and he began to remove it with palpitating haste, muttering fearfully as he redressed himself: "How I must have suffered! Great God, the physical melts away at the touch of the Spiritual! Oh, I wish Jessy would come! Why is she so late? When I do not want her she is here half an hour before this time." The next moment she tapped at his door and called,
"Ian."
"Oh, come in, Jessy. Come in! I want you! I want you!"
"Breakfast is waiting."
"Let it wait. Come in. I want you to tell me the truth, the plain, sure truth about what I am going to ask you."
"What is it, Ian?"