I said: "He will, though,—and he's stronger than any one."
Then I went round to the hotel.
I found him sitting up in bed, drinking his coffee.
He looked like some beautiful gray tree that I have seen in Savannah. His old dressing-gown hung about his frail yet majestic figure like some mysterious gray drapery.
We were both very much moved, and said little.
"I'm glad you've come. Two Queens have been kind to me this morning. Queen Alexandra telegraphed to say how sorry she was I was ill, and now you—"
He showed me the Queen's gracious message.
I told him he looked thin and ill, but rested.
"Rested! I should think so. I have plenty of time to rest. They tell me I shall be here eight weeks. Of course I sha'n't, but still—It was that rug in front of the door. I tripped over it. A commercial traveler picked me up—a kind fellow, but d—n him, he wouldn't leave me afterwards—wanted to talk to me all night."
I remembered his having said this, when I was told by his servant, [Walter Collinson], that on the night of his death at Bradford, he stumbled over the rug when he walked into the hotel corridor.