Mrs. Verden suddenly rose, took a box of matches from the mantelpiece,
and hurrying her stately, heavy tread, went upstairs. Her husband
followed in much trepidation, hovering near the door of his daughter's
room. The mother tremblingly lit the candle. Helena's aspect distressed
and alarmed her. The girl's face was masked as if in sleep, but
occasionally it was crossed by a vivid expression of fear or horror. Her
wide eyes showed the active insanity of her brain. From time to time she
uttered strange, inarticulate sounds. Her mother held her hands and
soothed her. Although she was hardly aware of the mother's presence,
Helena was more tranquil. The father went downstairs and turned out the
light. He brought his wife a large shawl, which he put on the bed-rail,
and silently left the room. Then he went and kneeled down by his own
bedside, and prayed.
Mrs Verden watched her daughter's delirium, and all the time, in a kind
of mental chant, invoked the help of God. Once or twice the girl came to
herself, drew away her hand on recognizing the situation, and turned
from her mother, who patiently waited until, upon relapse, she could
soothe her daughter again. Helena was glad of her mother's presence, but
she could not bear to be looked at.
Towards morning the girl fell naturally asleep. The mother regarded her
closely, lightly touched her forehead with her lips, and went away,
having blown out the candle. She found her husband kneeling in his
nightshirt by the bed. He muttered a few swift syllables, and looked up
as she entered.
'She is asleep,' whispered the wife hoarsely.
'Is it a--a natural sleep?' hesitated the husband.
'Yes. I think it is. I think she will be all right.' 'Thank God!' whispered the father, almost inaudibly.
He held his wife's hand as she lay by his side. He was the comforter.
She felt as if now she might cry and take comfort and sleep. He, the
quiet, obliterated man, held her hand, taking the responsibility
upon himself.