"Yes, I understand."
"How is Mildred?"
"Bright and well, with the exception that she is concerned about me. She suspects nothing."
"It is better so. Trouble comes soon enough."
"Indeed, indeed!" she murmured, with a strangely pathetic note in her voice--as though she were pitying herself. "If we but knew--if we but knew! But to do everything for the best--what can one do more? A heavy punishment is about to fall upon me, and yet I thought I was acting right. Go to my husband. He may need you when he wakes."
She glided up the stairs to Mildred's room, and I re-entered the study. Carew still slept, and I remained at my vigil till noon without observing any change in him. In addition to my position being one of embarrassment, I found myself labouring under a feeling of exhaustion. I had had no rest; and had passed a long and anxious day and night. Insensibly my eyes closed; I struggled against Nature's demand, but it was too imperative to be successfully resisted, and at length I fell asleep. So thoroughly worn out was I that it was evening before I awoke.
Carew, also awake, was gazing at me as I opened my eyes.
"I would not disturb you," he said. "You appeared to be thoroughly exhausted."
"I am not so young as I was," I observed, with an attempt at lightness. "Have you been awake long?"
"For some hours," he replied.