agitating kind. She dozed and dreamed, and awoke and dreamed again. Her
life seemed all to run into dreams,--a strange confusion was about her,
through which she could define nothing. Once waking up, as she supposed,
she saw a group round her bed, the doctor,--with a candle in his hand,
(how should the doctor be there in the middle of the night?) holding her
hand or feeling her pulse; little Mary at one side, crying,--why should
the child cry?--and Jervis, very, anxious, pouring something into a
glass. There were other faces there which she was sure must have come out
of a dream,--so unlikely was it that they should be collected in her
bedchamber,--and all with a sort of halo of feverish light about them; a
magnified and mysterious importance. This strange scene, which she did
not understand, seemed to make itself visible all in a moment out of the
darkness, and then disappeared again as suddenly as it came.




III.


When she woke again, it was morning; and her first waking consciousness
was, that she must be much better. The choking sensation in her throat
was altogether gone. She had no desire to cough--no difficulty in
breathing. She had a fancy, however, that she must be still dreaming,
for she felt sure that some one had called her by her name, "Mary."
Now all who could call her by her Christian name were dead years ago;
therefore it must be a dream. However, in a short time it was
repeated,--"Mary, Mary! get up; there is a great deal to do." This voice
confused her greatly. Was it possible that all that was past had been
mere fancy, that she had but dreamed those long, long years,--maturity