The recollection of about three days and nights succeeding this is
very dim in my mind. I can recall some sensations felt in that
interval; but few thoughts framed, and no actions performed. I knew
I was in a small room and in a narrow bed. To that bed I seemed to
have grown; I lay on it motionless as a stone; and to have torn me
from it would have been almost to kill me. I took no note of the
lapse of time--of the change from morning to noon, from noon to
evening. I observed when any one entered or left the apartment: I
could even tell who they were; I could understand what was said when
the speaker stood near to me; but I could not answer; to open my
lips or move my limbs was equally impossible. Hannah, the servant,
was my most frequent visitor. Her coming disturbed me. I had a
feeling that she wished me away: that she did not understand me or
my circumstances; that she was prejudiced against me. Diana and
Mary appeared in the chamber once or twice a day. They would
whisper sentences of this sort at my bedside "It is very well we took her in."
"Yes; she would certainly have been found dead at the door in the
morning had she been left out all night. I wonder what she has gone
through?"
"Strange hardships, I imagine--poor, emaciated, pallid wanderer?"
"She is not an uneducated person, I should think, by her manner of
speaking; her accent was quite pure; and the clothes she took off,
though splashed and wet, were little worn and fine."
"She has a peculiar face; fleshless and haggard as it is, I rather
like it; and when in good health and animated, I can fancy her
physiognomy would be agreeable."
Never once in their dialogues did I hear a syllable of regret at the
hospitality they had extended to me, or of suspicion of, or aversion
to, myself. I was comforted.
Mr. St. John came but once: he looked at me, and said my state of
lethargy was the result of reaction from excessive and protracted
fatigue. He pronounced it needless to send for a doctor: nature,
he was sure, would manage best, left to herself. He said every
nerve had been overstrained in some way, and the whole system must
sleep torpid a while. There was no disease. He imagined my
recovery would be rapid enough when once commenced. These opinions
he delivered in a few words, in a quiet, low voice; and added, after
a pause, in the tone of a man little accustomed to expansive
comment, "Rather an unusual physiognomy; certainly, not indicative
of vulgarity or degradation."