This was indeed true. Mrs. Hilton was a confirmed somnambulist, and her doctor feared that a sudden awakening from one of these spells would sooner or later prove fatal.
“Steal quietly out of the room, and leave her alone with me,” said Hilton, in the same low whisper; but even while he spoke he saw that this would be impossible, for the sleepwalker had paused directly in the doorway, and stood in such a position that it would have been impossible for any one to pass out without touching her, and the very lightest touch would have awakened her.
There was a moment of intense silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the sleeping woman.
Iris trembled like a leaf in a storm, and was scarcely conscious that it was Chester St. John’s firm hand that had forced her into an easy-chair, against the back of which he was now leaning, with his face hidden in his hands.
Presently the lips of the somnambulist opened, and she spoke, slowly and distinctly:
“Don’t ask me to do it, Oscar; I’ve been a bad, unfeeling mother always, but I cannot do this thing; it is such a cruel letter—it will make Chester St. John despise her—I can copy her handwriting—yes—I know—but to say she left her home for an unworthy lover—while I know that all her heart is given to him—to Chester—no! no! Oscar! Don’t threaten to betray my secret—I will write—anything—anything you dictate——”
Tears were streaming down the poor, wan cheeks of the unfortunate woman now, while Iris with difficulty checked her own wild sobbing, and Chester St. John whispered hoarsely:
“What can this mean!” And dropping on his knees, weak as a fainting woman, hid his face on the arm of the chair in which Iris reclined.
Oscar Hilton had crept noiselessly to his daughter’s side, and was pressing his hand firmly on her shoulder to prevent her from making any outcry; for, base and worldly as this man was, he loved his wife with all the strength of which his selfish nature was capable, and bore even this betrayal of his baseness rather than silence her at the risk of her life.
Again there was a moment of silence, while the fingers of the sleeper made the motions of writing, slowly and carefully, pausing often, and bending her head as if to study some written page before her.