But this sleep was not quiet like the preceding one.
As evening approached the sleeper became restless: tossing her limbs about, rolling her head, and rolling her eyes, and muttering in approaching delirium.
But why should I repeat the horrors of that second night? It was but a reproduction of those of the first one.
Again desperate remedies were applied to meet violent symptoms. And again the frenzy was subdued to quietness, but the sufferer meanwhile brought nearly to dissolution. And her medical attendant might well have said, with the conqueror of old:
“Another such a victory and I am ruined.”
By noon next day Erminie lay in sleep or stupor, with scarcely a sign of life in her aspect, with scarcely a hope of life in prospect.
Elfie was forced to leave her for a few hours, that she—Elfie—might recruit herself with a bath and a nap.
But early in the afternoon the faithful girl was again by the bedside of her friend.
To her surprise she thought she saw symptoms of a favorable change.
Erminie was breathing softly. She opened her eyes, and seeing Elfie, tried to put out her hand.