The sad news of the young gentleman's fate was immediately communicated to the people at the hotel, and soon spread through the town.
Ah, the drowning of a man at that point was not such an unusual event after all, and it made much less impression than it ought to have done.
Some people said they felt sorry for the poor young woman so suddenly bereaved and left among strangers; and perhaps they really believed that they did so; but the next instant they thought of something else.
But the ladies who had been present near the scene of the catastrophe, and had witnessed Mary Grey's well-acted terror, grief and despair, really did sympathize with her supposed sorrows to a very painful extent.
After following her to the hotel, they went with her to her room, and helped to undress her and put her to bed.
And two among them offered to remain and watch with her during the night.
The sinful woman, already a prey to the horrors of remorse and superstition, dreading the darkness and solitude of the night, fearing almost to see the dripping specter of the drowned man standing over her bed, gratefully accepted their offer, and begged, at the same time, for morphia.
Her kind attendants were afraid to administer a dangerous opiate without the advice of a physician; so they sent for one immediately, who, on his arrival and his examination of the terribly excited patient, gave her a dose that soon sent her to sleep.
The two ladies took their places by her bed and watched her.
She slept well through the night, and awoke quite calmly in the morning. The composing influence of the morphia had not yet left her.