CHAPTER XXVII.

THE FIRST SOUND SLEEP.

I sat down by the young man's bed; I talked to him in a low voice--a great deal of nonsense, I dare say; I was not thinking how it might sound, but was only anxious to soothe him; and while I talked I smoothed his hair and passed my hand slowly across his forehead, after a fashion which I had acquired in my attendance upon Mrs. Lee, during her numerous illnesses.

I cannot pretend to account for it, but from my earliest girlhood I always had a faculty for taking care of sick people, and of soothing them when no other person could.

My art did not fail that time. Bosworth's voice grew lower and lower; his hands crossed themselves upon the counterpane; his eyes closed, and very soon his measured breathing proved that he was quietly asleep. When I looked up, that stately old duchess of a grandmother was regarding me with such a blessing in her eyes, that I felt the dew steal into mine; while the younger lady, subdued out of her fidgetiness, appeared almost tranquil, and was quite silent.

Nobody stirred or spoke. There we sat and watched the sick man as he slept--that quiet sleep which the physician had pronounced so necessary for him, and which his art had failed to procure. It is not often that I feel thoroughly satisfied with Martha Hyde, but I confess that just then I did; not that it proceeded from a sense of self-importance, or anything of that sort, but it is seldom that a quiet person like me has an opportunity of doing good to anybody, and when the occasion does arrive, it is more pleasant than I can at all describe.

Bosworth must have slept nearly an hour; the instant he opened his eyes, I saw that the fever had abated a little. He smiled faintly at his mother and the old lady; then his glance fell upon me. Through the feverish flush still on his face there appeared a glow of thankfulness and pleasure, which was beautiful to behold.

"Is that you, Miss Hyde?" he asked.

"Yes," I said; "I have been sitting here for some time. You have had a nice sleep; to-morrow you will be better."

"Thank you; I hope so."

Little Mrs. Bosworth began to flutter; but the old lady put her down with a strong hand, and the weak female subsided into her chair, meek as a hen-pigeon that has been unexpectedly pecked by her mate.

I saw, by the way Bosworth looked at them, that he wished to speak with me alone; the old duchess saw it too, and said, with the decision which was evidently habitual to her:

"My daughter, if Miss Hyde will sit with our boy a little longer, we will go into the garden for a breath of air."

Bosworth called them to him, kissed his mother's cheek, and the grandmother's hand, and the old lady went out in her stately way, while the small woman followed in her wake, like a little boat tacked to a graceful yacht.

"Miss Hyde," said the young man, the moment the door closed, "you came alone?"

"Yes," I replied; "I hurried off without telling any one where I was going."

"You are very kind," he repeated. "They are all well, I hope, at the house?"

"Very well; they will be sorry to hear that you are sick."

"Miss Hyde!" he exclaimed, hurriedly,--so weak from sickness that he forgot all the reticence and self-command which characterized him in health,--"Miss Hyde, do you think she would come to see me?"

I knew whom he meant--there was no necessity for mentioning any name.

"Would she come, do you believe?" he asked again.

"I am certain that she would," I replied. "You are an old friend to all of us; why should she not?"

"Yes, an old friend," he answered, sadly; "I know, I know! I won't pain her; she shall not be troubled; promise to bring her, Miss Hyde."

"I can promise unhesitatingly," I said; "I have no doubt Mr. Lee will bring her himself, to-morrow."

"To-morrow--oh! how much I thank you!" And he smiled like a tired child. "Will you call my mother now?" he continued; "she will feel troubled if she thinks I can do without her."

I went out into the hall, where the two ladies stood, and beckoned them into the room. We all remained about the bed for a few moments, talking cheerfully; then I bade Bosworth good-bye, answered the entreaty in his eyes with a smile, and went down-stairs.

The grandmother followed me, and, when we reached the outer door, took my hand between both of hers.

"You are very good!" she said. "We have long been strangers to each other, Miss Hyde; but an old woman's blessing cannot hurt you, and I give it to you."

I was so much affected, that it was all I could do to keep from crying like a child; but I did not give way, and, mutually anxious to restrain our feelings, we parted with a certain degree of haste, which an unobservant looker-on might have construed into indifference. But I think that grand old woman understood me, even from that short interview, and I know that, for my part, I went forth from her presence solemnized and calmed as one leaves a church.