"I will go to my pillow," she said. "You are right. I need rest. Good-night!"
Her words were hurried. There was a wildness about her eye that denoted malady of the mind rather than of body. Rupert detained her.
"You shall have advice, dearest," said he. "I will go myself"——
"No, no, no," she exclaimed, interrupting him; "I beseech you. Suffer me to retire. In the morning you will be glad that you have spared yourself the trouble. I am not worthy of it; good-night!"
"Not worthy, Elinor!"
"Not ill enough, I mean. Rupert, good-night."
Sinclair folded his wife in his arms, and spoke a few words of comfort and encouragement. Had he been a quick observer, he would have marked how, almost involuntarily, she recoiled from his embrace, and avoided his endearments.
She lingered for a moment at the door.
"Shall Alice go with you?" inquired the husband.
"No. I will send for her; let her wait with you. Good-night, Alice!"