On Sunday afternoon Mary fell into a refreshing sleep. Her husband sat by her bedside hour after hour watching and thinking over the problem which he had set himself to solve.
At last she woke with a sudden cry and looked round her with a puzzled frightened expression. Then her eyes met his, and a softer look came into them. She stretched out her arms feebly towards him and said in low half conscious tones, her mind still wandering, "Kiss me, Harry, dear;" he kissed her—she closed her eyes and continued in an intermittent dreamy way, "My love! my love! how delicious to be with you again after so long, so long—going through the green fields hand in hand with you plucking the pretty flowers. Ah! you told me of all this happiness in those dark old days in horrible London; but I never thought they would come. Do not let me go back there! Do not leave me, Harry! I am afraid!" She looked wildly around the room as she uttered the last words.
"Of what, my poor little pet?" he said, clasping her in his arms. "See, I am with you—there is no cause to be afraid."
"Ah! but, dear, I am afraid of all this great happiness—something will happen. See even now how clouded it is getting, and the green grass and the flowers are turning black and withering—and, oh! all those dead leaves whirling about! But I will not be afraid, I am with you. How nice to be in the fields once more with you and baby—and baby—baby! O God!" she started up in the bed, her eyes dilated and staring in a horrible fashion. "O God, my baby! oh, they have taken away my baby—Harry! Harry! where is my baby? She has got him at last, yes, she—that woman there—Susan Riley! Ah, my baby!" and her awful cry rang through the house and was even heard in the street, so that passers-by stopped and turned pale at the agony of it. "Oh, my beautiful baby! oh, give me back my baby! Pity me, Susan, I kneel before you—kill me—torture me in any way, but spare my baby! What have you done with him? Oh, do not smile that cruel smile—what do you mean? Oh, murderess! murderess!"
The very extremity of her anguish prevented its continuance. After this paroxysm she appeared dazed and was quiet for some time, then her mind commenced to wander in other channels. "Mrs. King! mother! do not look so coldly at me. Pity your poor little girl! you used to love me once. I have not betrayed you, mother. I have never breathed the secret that was killing me, even to my husband. I have given you my life."
Then she closed her eyes for a few minutes. She opened them again and looked wistfully at her husband. "Harry, kiss me—am I so ugly, dear? I think they have cut off all my hair; but they said I was ugly before that. Mrs. Grimm used to say I was ugly; but you don't think so, do you, dear?"
The man put his lips to hers and his tears fell on her cheek, he could not keep them back. Then her eyes lit up with a beautiful light of great love. "Kiss me once more, dear—I am dying; one last sweet kiss from you just as I am dying. I will die as you kiss, die in your dear arms, Harry," and she stretched out her hands to him.
He clasped her softly in his arms and kissed her hot brow. She lay there with a contented smile on her lips, her eyes closed, and in a few moments she fell into a deep tranquil sleep.
He did not move his arm away lest he should disturb her, and nearly an hour passed, and his heart became light within him, as he saw that the danger was passing, that in all probability she would awake refreshed and calm, with a sound mind.
At last there came a gentle tap at the door, and the nurse entered.