"Mother," Maud asked, bending over her, "are you better? Do you know
me?"
Emily nodded. There was no touch of natural colour in her face, and
its muscles seemed paralysed. And she lay thus for hours, conscious
apparently, but paying no attention to those in the room. Early in
the morning a medical man was summoned, but his assistance made no
change. The fog was still heavy, and only towards noon was it
possible to dispense with lamp-light; then there gleamed for an hour
or two a weird mockery of day, and again it was nightfall. With the
darkness came rain.
Waymark had come to the house about ten o'clock. But this was to be
no wedding-day. Maud begged him through her aunt not to see her, and
he returned as he came. Miss Bygrave had told him all that had
happened.
Mrs. Enderby seemed to sleep for some hours, but just after
nightfall the previous condition returned; she lay with her eyes
open, and just nodded when spoken to. From eight o'clock to midnight
Maud tried to rest in her own room, but sleep was far from her, and
when she returned to the sick-chamber to relieve her aunt, she was
almost as worn and ghastly in countenance as the one they tended.
She took her place by the fire, and sat listening to the sad rain,
which fell heavily upon the soaked garden-ground below.
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