He left as soon
as he could and went back to the shop. After telling the tale of the
calamity which had befallen him he announced--it was now supper-time-
-that he was going to stay all night. Mother, father, and sister
were delighted to have him--"It looked like old times again;" but
George was not in much of a mood for talking, and at ten o'clock went
upstairs; his early departure being, of course, set down to the worry
he had gone through. He turned into bed. Generally speaking he
thought no more of sleep than he did of breathing; it came as
naturally as the air into his lungs; but what was this new
experience? Half an hour, an hour, after he had laid down he was
still awake, and worse than awake; for his thoughts were of a
different cast from his waking thoughts; fearful forebodings; a
horror of great darkness. He rose and bathed his head in cold water,
and lay down again; but it was of no use, and he walked about his
room. What an epoch is the first sleepless night--the night when the
first wrench has been given us by the Destinies to loosen us from the
love of life; when we have first said to ourselves that there are
worse things than death!
George's father always slept well, but the mother stirred at the
slightest sound.
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