and so I fell asleep.
When I awoke, my gentle cousin, (more constant than my heavenly visitant, Sleep,) was still seated by my side; all the rest were gone; candles burned on the table—it was midnight; I had slept for hours, she yet retained my hand. I looked at her, and burst into tears.
"We are alone, Theodore," said my beloved; "tell me, I beseech you, what is labouring on your mind. You have spoken strange things during your sleep. You have declared that I had the power to restore you; can I do this? Theodore, be candid! Were it to cost my life, I would gladly lay it down to be of benefit to you."
I could not answer her; but I clasped my arms round that pure, angelic form, and wept like an infant on her bosom.
"Can I do you service, Theodore? You deny not what your lips murmured in sleep."
"You can restore my reason, for you are the purest person that I know on earth."
"By what means? But, alas! you are wandering still; this is one of your delusions! Would that it were in my power to heal thy mind, my dearest cousin."
"In this, my heart's treasure, I am at least perfectly sane. You have the power to cure me."
"Tell me the means."