The chief justice, only, complaining of cold and fatigue, excused himself from joining in any game, though he declined to go to bed, and sat in the most comfortable arm-chair in the warmest corner of the fire-place, sipping hot punch from a glass on a stand at his elbow.
When his moderate glass was empty he spread his white handkerchief over his face, and lay back in his chair and dozed, undisturbed by all the musical chatter and silvery laughter around him.
At ten o’clock there was a tray of refreshments brought in, and handed first to the old lady, who was served by the general.
Next the tray was handed to the judge. The servant who carried it stood in silence for a moment, and then said:
“If you please, sir, his honor is asleep.”
Mrs. Lyon immediately turned and playfully whisked the handkerchief from her husband’s head and asked him what he meant by being so rude as to fall asleep.
There was no response by word or motion.
She bent forward and looked in his face, and then screamed.
Her scream brought all the company in alarm around her. Her hand was on the old man’s pulse, and her face was pale and wild with fright.
General Lyon gently replaced her in her seat, and went back to the judge.