One night in January the night nurse of the second floor, at one end of which was the Prince Ward, sat drowsily waiting for medicine periods or the sound of bells from the various rooms.
It was the last night of her watch, and she was worn out from a month’s sleeplessness.
Toward midnight the tinkle of a bell roused her. She went from door to door trying to place it. As she neared the Prince Ward it sounded again.
She paused at the door.
“Very strange,” she thought; “surely there is no one in here?”
But to make sure she went in. The room was icy cold.
A low moan came from the narrow bed.
“Water!” murmured a voice inarticulately. “Water!”
“Wait until I turn on the light,” said the nurse, going towards the chimney-place. She stepped on something, tripped, would have fallen; caught at the bed and grasped a long thick rope of hair. She lifted it and laid it alongside the figure it evidently belonged to.
“Water, water!” moaned the inarticulate voice again, close to her ear. The nurse went out, much puzzled, and returned with a glass. Two icy hands touched hers as she held it to the lips.