The minutes passed. The violence of her agitation began to tell
physically on her weakened frame.
She found herself crying silently without knowing why. A weight was
on her head, a weariness was in all her limbs. She sank lower on the
cushions--her eyes closed--the monotonous ticking of the clock on the
mantelpiece grew drowsily fainter and fainter on her ear. Little by
little she dropped into slumber--slumber so light that she started when
a morsel of coal fell into the grate, or when the birds chirped and
twittered in their aviary in the winter-garden.
Lady Janet and Horace came in. She was faintly conscious of persons in
the room. After an interval she opened her eyes, and half rose to speak
to them. The room was empty again. They had stolen out softly and left
her to repose. Her eyes closed once more. She dropped back into slumber,
and from slumber, in the favoring warmth and quiet of the place, into
deep and dreamless sleep.