Hours passed with that solemn slowness one knows in a sick room. The time was broken by my errands to the two watchers below stairs, to whom I carried news of her condition. More than once during the night Karl came also, as he had come frequently during the day, sent by the Duke in his anxiety for tidings of Gareth.
It was some time past midnight when I noticed a change. She took the nourishment I gave her, and when I laid her back on the pillow, she sighed and made an effort to open her eyes.
I took her hand and held it and, after some time, I felt a slight pressure of her fingers upon mine.
"Gareth, dearest," I whispered.
At first there was no response; but when I called her again, the pressure of the fingers was distinct; and a little later she opened her eyes and looked at me.
That was all then, and she was so still afterwards, that I thought she was once more unconscious. She was not, however; and presently her eyes opened again and her lips moved.
I bent down over her, and caught the faintly whispered words:
"Am I dying?"
"No, dearest, no. You will soon be strong again."
She looked at me, and tried, I think, to smile.