"Thanks to your kindness, I had such a good sleep this afternoon that
I feel strong and rested," he replied, with a smile.
"I fear you say so to put my mind at rest;" but even as she spoke her eyes closed and she went to sleep like a tired and trusting child. As with Dennis a few hours before, the limit of nature's endurance had been reached, and the wealthy, high-born Miss Ludolph, who on Sabbath night had slept in the midst of artistic elegance and luxury, now, on Monday night, rested in a vacant grave under the open and storm-gathering sky. Soon—to be accurate, at two o'clock on the morning of Tuesday—rain began to fall. But, with all the discomfort it brought, never had rain been more welcome.
Christine shivered in her sleep, and Dennis looked around vainly for some additional covering. The thronging fugitives were all in a similar plight, and their only course was simply to endure till some path of escape opened.
The night was indeed a long one to him. At first excitement and happiness kept him awake and unconscious of time and discomfort. But he soon felt how weary and hungry he was, for he had eaten nothing since his slight supper on Sabbath evening. The heat of the fire perceptibly lessened as the rain began falling, and without his coat Dennis was soon chilled to the bone. On every side he heard moans of discomfort, and he knew that he had far more reason to endure patiently than many near him. He tried to keep himself warm by walking around, but at last he grew too weary for that, and sat, a patient, cowering watcher, at the head of Christine's weird couch, listening sadly at times to the pitiful crying of little children and the sighs and groans of older sufferers.
At last the light of welcome day streaked the eastern horizon, and
Christine opened her eyes in a bewildered way, but, on seeing him
swaying backward and forward with half-closed eyes, sprang up and said,
"And have you sat and watched there all the long night?"
"I hope you feel rested and better, Miss Ludolph," he replied, startled from drowsiness by her voice.
"It has been raining, too. I fear you are wet through. Oh, how much you must have suffered on my account!"
"I imagine you are as wet as I am, Miss Ludolph. This has been a very democratic experience for you. We are all about alike in this strange camping-ground."
"No; your kindness made me quite comfortable. Indeed, I never slept better. And you, without any coat or shelter, have watched patiently hour after hour."
"Well, you did as much for me yesterday afternoon, so we are quits."