This consideration gave her strength for a final
effort. She tore the letter into very small pieces, and then, clinging to a
chair, strove to grasp the rail of the bed; but the bed rolled worse than
any ship. Making a supreme effort, she got in; and then, neither dreams nor
waking thoughts, but oblivion complete. Hours and hours passed, and when
she opened her eyes her maid stood over the bed, looking at her.
'Oh, miss, you looked so tired and ill that I didn't wake you. You do seem
poorly, miss. It is nearly two o'clock. Should you like to sleep a little
longer, or shall I bring you up some breakfast?'
'No, no, no, thank you. I couldn't touch anything. I'm feeling wretched;
but I'll get up.'
The maid tried to dissuade her; but Emily got out of bed, and allowed
herself to be dressed. She was very weak--so weak that she could hardly
stand up at the washstand; and the maid had to sponge her face and neck.
But when she had drunk a cup of tea and eaten a little piece of toast, she
said she felt better, and was able to walk into the drawing-room. She
thought no more of death, nor of her troubles; thought drowned in her; and
in a passive, torpid state she sat looking into the fire till dinner-time,
hardly caring to bestow a casual caress on Dandy, who seemed conscious of
his mistress's neglect, for, in his sly, coaxing way, he sometimes came and
rubbed himself against her feet.
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