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Updated: June 4, 2025
Edith ceased to bend upon the hag the wild, terrified looks that at first rewarded the music; she sunk her head upon her bosom, and sat as if gradually giving way to a lethargy of spirit, which, if not sleep, was sleep's most beneficent substitute.
My fever's gone now, and I'm feeling pretty rocky and mean. Sleep's a grand pick-me-up." They took off their coats, and lay down then under filmy mosquito bars, and presently sleep came to them. He was a man who at all times was extraordinarily watchful and alert.
All the time she was speaking she seemed to be on the point of asking some question. What was it? and why did she seem so pitifully anxious to make friends with me?" "When hope lies dead. Ah! when 'tis death to live And wrongs remembered make the heart still bleed, Better are sleep's kind lies for Life's blind need Than truth, if lies a little peace can give."
"Sleep's what everybody needs and I can't think of any surer way of gettin' to sleep than readin' the South Harniss news in that paper." Whether or not this unkind joke was deserved is not material; at all events Isaiah was reading the paper when he was very much startled by a knock at the door. "Who who is it?" he stammered. "It is Mary," whispered a voice outside the door.
I'm Elizabeth." He caught at the name. "You lie!" he cried shrilly. "Elizabeth's dead! I won't have her talked about! She's dead, I say! Hush-sh! Hush-sh! Don't wake her up. Sleep's a good thing a good thing." On the table where she had placed the lamp was a tiny bottle marked "chloral." There was also a glass of water upset upon the table.
Shading his lamp he stepped softly away to wrestle with a worse nightmare than sleep's. Her meaning was clear: and she was a woman to insist on doing it.
"I'm afraid it's a small part," she returned, "compared to yours." "Oh, I hold my end up, I guess." "I should think you'd be so worn out and sleepy you couldn't hold your head up!" "Who? ME? Not t'-night, m'little friend. I tuk MY sleep's aft'noon and let Rameau do the Sherlock a little while." She gazed upon him with unconcealed admiration.
"He seems to be fast asleep. I'd better not disturb him." "But suppose he wants something in the night?" "Well, child, I should hear him moving. Sleep's the best thing for him." Mrs. Baines left Mr. Povey to the effects of laudanum, and came along the corridor. She was a stout woman, all black stuff and gold chain, and her skirt more than filled the width of the corridor.
He has my father's name, and when sleep's white finger has veiled his bonnie eyes, and she sits by him, grand and stately still, but humming low ditties that I never heard her sing before, I verily believe that she fancies him to be my father's child.
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