I believe there is: I know there is.
The candle went out. I had sat with my eyes shut, and had not noticed it, till I heard her steal across the room, trying to get a light. Afraid to trust my own heavy step—hers seemed as soft as snow—I contrived to pull the window-blind aside, so that a pale white streak fell across the hearth where she was kneeling—the cheerless hearth, for I had not dared to risk the noise of keeping up a fire.
She looked up, and shivered.
“Is that light morning?”
“Yes. Are you cold?”
“A little.”
“It is always cold at day-break. Go and get a shawl.”
She took no notice, but put the candle in its place and came over to me.
“How do you think he is?”
“No worse.”