"No, I thank you, Sir."
"But it makes me tired to see you stand."
"Then, Sir, I will sit down." He brought another chair, and, seating himself, he turned his searching eyes upon me. He was so enormous and he towered so, even after sitting down, that he inspired a feeling of creepy dread, his eyes so black and his smile so grave; and I was sure that in his presence the day could not long continue to be broad; indeed, I could see that the light at the window was slowly fading.
"I asked them if I might come and nurse you," he said. "There were other stricken ones that I might have nursed, but I heard that you were an actor, and then I knew where my duty lay."
"I am thankful for your partiality to my profession, at any rate," I replied.
He smiled, and his great teeth gleamed in the fading light. "I was not influenced by the partiality of the flesh, but by the duty laid upon the spirit. Most anyone could nurse your body, but I begged the privilege of nursing your soul as well."
"Ah, and you think an actor's soul is in especial need of nursing?"
"With your permission we will leave that for some future converse. I have been enjoined not to engage you in a talk that might bring weariness upon you. For a few nights to come there may be danger, and until that time is—is—shall have been passed, I will sit with you."
"But who are you?" I inquired.
"I am the humblest servant of the church wherein I preach the gospel that sinners may be brought to repentance; and my name is Washington Smith. But I must talk no more, and you must keep quiet."