She paused for a moment thus—while the whole meaning of the scene flashed through the mind of Manton in an instant; and, although he felt a very great inclination to laugh, he restrained himself, and determined to encourage the thing, and see how far it would go. The new Sleep-Walker now advanced slowly towards him; and as she crossed the room, a slight movement of her fingers beat the air before her, as if through the guidance of these magnetic poles her soul sought its centre of attraction; with a slow, gliding movement she thus approached, until within a few inches of him, when her hand leaped, as the magnet does to the stone, to meet his, and then a certain painful rigidity that had marked her brow at first, was displaced and gave way to a serene expression of content, as if she had now found rest.
That peculiar action of the muscles of the throat, as if in the effort to swallow, now followed immediately, and was sufficient intimation to Manton that she desired to speak. He accordingly asked her, solemnly—
“Why are you here?”
But there was evidently something of mockery in the tone in which this question was asked, for the Sleep-Walker only frowned and shook her head impatiently. Manton now changed his voice, and with real curiosity, proceeded.
“Speak: why have you come to me thus? What would you say to me?”
After some four or five efforts to produce sound, she articulated—
“For your good.”
“Tell me then, what is for my good?”
She again frowned and shook her head and muttered—
“You are naughty.”