That patient lay, white as a lily, on her bed.
"How is she?" inquired the doctor, approaching.
"Why, just the same—no motion, no sense, hardly any breath," answered the nurse.
"Sybil, my darling! Sybil!" murmured her heart-broken husband, bending low over her still and pallid face.
She rolled her head from side to side, as if half-awakened by some familiar sound, and then lay still again.
"Sybil! my dearest wife! Sybil!" again murmured Lyon Berners, laying his hand on her brow.
She opened her eyes wide, looked around, and then gazed at her husband's face as if it had been only a part of the wall.
"Sybil, my dear, my only love! Sybil!" he repeated, trying to meet and fix her gaze.
But her eyes glanced off and wandered around the room, and finally closed again.
"I told you she would not know you," sighed the doctor.