“I know you,” interjected her friend.
“Elma, doesn’t it seem extraordinary that it is only a few weeks since I really wanted to die? It felt as if it was the only way of settling things—as if I ought not to marry him, and yet couldn’t bear not to—and now the only thing I care for is to see him again. I should be perfectly happy——”
“It isn’t extraordinary at all—merely that you’ve come to your senses. My dear, I was in love with Dugald once, you know——”
“But if we should never see them again, either of them! Oh, Elma, if they should never find us! What do you think——?”
“I think you’ll have a touch of fever if you don’t try to go to sleep. Listen to Hafiza. She is going among strangers, just like you and me, but she doesn’t sit up and talk. Say your prayers, and lie down.”
“She can sleep because she has so little to lose, whatever happens. So long as she was kindly treated, I suppose she could make herself happy anywhere.”
“Well, I have about as much to lose as you have,” with a terrific yawn, “and I should very much like to go to sleep.”
“I oughtn’t to be so selfish. But listen, Elma. We’ll take turns to sleep, and then they can’t separate us. I will watch first.”
“Oh, very well. Wake me when you feel drowsy,” and Lady Haigh turned over on her hard couch, and composed herself to sleep. When Penelope roused her, however, it was not to take her turn at watching. She was kneeling beside her, with her lips very close to her ear.
“Elma, wake up! Don’t say anything, but listen. Don’t you hear noises? I’m sure something is going to happen.”