"How long have you lain here?" asked the sorrowful doctor, suddenly.
"Since I can remember, sir," said the Lady of Shalott, with that blue smile. "But then I have always had my glass."
"Ah!" said the doctor, "the Lady of Shalott!"
"Sir?" said the Lady of Shalott.
"Where is the pain?" asked the doctor, gently, with his finger on the Lady of Shalott's pulse.
The Lady of Shalott touched the shoulder of her brown calico night-dress, smiling.
"And what did you see in your glass?" asked the doctor, once more stooping to examine "the pain."
The Lady of Shalott tried to tell him, but felt confused; so many strange things had been in the glass since it grew hot. So she only said that there were waves and a purple wing, and that they were broken now, and lay upon the floor.
"Purple wings?" asked the doctor.
"Over the sidewalk," nodded the Lady of Shalott. "It comes up at night."