"And not asleep yet, dear?" said Mrs. Carroll, in mild surprise.
"No; I am so restless I cannot sleep. I am sorry I had to disturb you, mamma, but I came to ask you to give me some simple sleeping potion."
"Certainly, love; but wouldn't it be wiser to try and sleep without it? Did you try counting backward?"
She rose as she spoke and turned up the gas. Mrs. St. John laughed—a short, mirthless laugh.
"Oh, yes, mamma, I tried all the usual old-woman remedies, but to no avail. My brain is too excited to yield to trifling measures. Give me something strong that will induce sleep directly."
Her mother, looking at her keenly, saw that she was very pale, and her wide-open, dark eyes looked heavy with some speechless pain.
"Dear, you are not ill, are you?" she inquired, going to a little medicine-case and taking out a small vial and wineglass.
"No, mamma, only nervous and restless. Give me the opiate. It is all I need."
"Did you enjoy the ball?" asked her mother, pouring out the drops with a steady hand. "Who was there?"