“Who are you?”
“Your nurse,” was the reply.
“Nurse?”
One word only, but a chapter in its inquiring tone. “Yes,” she said gently; “you have been ill. Don’t try to talk. Take this, and lie quite still.”
Another long, dreamy time, during which there were noises about his head—the gentle, pleasant voice of his nurse, and the firm, decisive voice of the doctor. It might have been hours, it might have been days or weeks, he did not know; and then came the morning when he seemed to awaken from a long disturbed sleep, full of terrible dreams, with a full realisation of his position.
He looked about him, and there were people in beds on either side, while a row of windows started from opposite to him, and went on right and left.
At last he saw the face of the woman whom he felt that he had seen leaning over him in his dream.
She came to his bedside.
“Well?” she said, with a pleasant smile.