A pleasant sensation crept over me, as I gazed languidly around. The atmosphere seemed familiar, and I felt a smile stealing to my mouth.
Turner saw it, and almost laughed through the tears that were clouding his eyes.
“Do you like this?” he whispered, softly.
“Oh, yes, so much!”
“Shall I put you into that pretty bed?”
“No, no!” I shrieked, with a sudden pang, “it is white like a snow-drift; I would rather go back to the meadow and sleep with the larks.”
The old man looked sad again. He carried me close to the bed, and put some folds of the curtain in my hand; but I shrank back appalled by their unmixed whiteness. He could not comprehend this shuddering recoil, but sought to remove the cause. Curtains of silk, like those at the window, were looped through the ivory hoop. These he shook loose till they mingled in bright blossom colored waves with the lace. Then I began to smile again, and a sweet home feeling stole over me.
Turner carried me in his arms to the door and called aloud. A woman answered, and came into the room. When her eyes fell upon me they dilated, grew larger, and she uttered a few rapid words in some language that I did not understand. Turner answered her in the same tongue, then all at once she fell upon her knees, and raising her clasped hands began to weep.
Turner addressed her again, and with eager haste she prepared a bath, brought forth night clothes of the finest linen, and laid me in the bed exhausted, but tranquil and sleepy.
I heard Turner and the woman moving softly around my bed. I knew that tears and kisses were left upon my face, and then I slept, oh, how sweetly!