"And so is mine," said Miss Axtell.
"And mine," added I.
"And is it for that that you don't sleep, Kate?"
"No, Ma'am; but it is because you won't try to sleep; and you told us all, when my mother died, that"—and Katie stopped there.
"Why don't you go on?" I asked, in a low voice.
"I can't,—I don't remember the words; but you said, Miss Lettie, that too much sorrow was wicked."
"And so it is; and mine is, if it keeps you awake. I will lie down."
The little maid so kindly, gently arranged the pillows, and made the lady comfortable, that there was little left for me to do.
When she went back to bury the dream that I so suddenly drew out of the balmy land, I had only to shade the light, stir the fire a little, and then wait. From afar up the street came the stroke of one. Miss Axtell's face was turned away from me. I could only fancy that her eyes were closed. Once she put an arm over the pillow. I touched it. It burned with fever-heat. Then all was still. I sat upon a lounge, comfort-giving, related to the chair in style of covering. I fancied, after a long quiet, that my patient was asleep. I kept myself awake by examining this room that I was in. It was, like most of the other rooms, a hexagon, with two windows looking eastward. An air of homeness was over, and in, its every appointment. It seemed a room to sing in; were songs ever heard there? I laid my head upon my hand, and listened to one that Fancy tried to sing,—I, who never sing, in whose soul music rolls and swells in great ocean-waves, that never in this world will break against the shore of sound; and so I builded one, very wild and porous and wavering, a style of iceberg shore, far out in the limitless, waters, and listened to the echoes that came,—and, listening, must have fallen into sleep.
I awoke with a chill feeling, as if the fire had gone down. A draught seemed blowing upon me. I got up with a full sense of my position as keeper of that fire, and went to it. The door into the hall was open. I glanced at the bed; Miss Axtell was not there. The hall was dark. I caught up the lamp and hurried out. I leaned over the balustrade and looked down the stairway. Slowly going down I saw Miss Axtell. Was she a somnambulist? Perhaps so. I must be cautious. I hastened after her, moving as noiselessly as she. I took the precaution to leave the lamp in the upper hall. She was leaning against the wall-side of the staircase. Just as she reached the lower step, I put my arm around her. There was no need; she was fully awake.