"You look care-worn and anxious, Sir," he said, turning to me; "your vigil has been a long and trying one. Can I induce you to lie down for a little time? Even an hour's sleep would benefit you, and enable you better to meet the demands which your wife's illness may yet make on you."
"What is your opinion of her case?" I asked anxiously.
"I can form no opinion as yet. I shall be better able to do so when she awakens from this stupor. Meanwhile Mrs. Williams" (he evidently knew her) "and I can keep watch."
"I really would try to get a little rest, Sir," said Mrs. Williams. "You look to need it very badly. It is well to keep up your strength, Sir; and I will promise to call you if it should be necessary."
There was wisdom in their advice; I did indeed require sleep. It was not so much my body as my mind that was exhausted. I said I would lie down in the adjoining room, and begged them to arouse me should the slightest alteration appear in her symptoms.
I was chilly. The mornings were cold now, and want of sleep had robbed me of my natural warmth. I rolled myself in a rug, laid myself on the bed, and in a few minutes fell fast asleep.
I was awakened from a deep slumber by some one pulling my arm. The sunshine poured through the blindless windows and filled the room with light. My eyes, heavy with sleep, were dazzled by the glare; afterwards I saw Mrs. Williams. I jumped up at once.
The look of white horror on her face gave me such a shock that I could hardly speak. I heard a whispering going on outside the door. My belief was that Geraldine was dead, and I pressed my hand to my heart while I asked Mrs. Williams to tell me what had happened.
"Oh, Sir," she began, "it is too awful! I—I"——she stopped.