She wondered at the ball of glass, containing various
coloured sands from the Isle of Wight, or some other place, which
hung suspended from the middle of the little valance over the
window. But she did not care to exert herself to ask any questions,
although she saw Mrs. Sturgis standing at the bedside with some tea,
ready to drop it into her mouth by spoonfuls.
She did not see the face of honest joy, of earnest
thankfulness,--the clasped hands, the beaming eyes,--the trembling
eagerness of gesture, of one who had long awaited her awakening, and
who now stood behind the curtains watching through some little chink
her every faint motion; or if she had caught a glimpse of that
loving, peeping face, she was in too exhausted a state to have taken
much notice, or have long retained the impression that he she loved
so well was hanging about her, and blessing God for every conscious
look which stole over her countenance.
She fell softly into slumber, without a word having been spoken by
any one during that half-hour of inexpressible joy.
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