I had never felt before. In the old days at the Vicarage my
capacity as a sound sleeper had been the subject of many a little
harmless joke. From the moment when my head was on the pillow I
had never known what it was to awake until the maid knocked at my
door. At all seasons and times the long and uninterrupted repose
of a child was the repose that I enjoyed.

And now I had awakened, without any assignable cause, hours
before my usual time. I tried to compose myself to sleep again.
The effort was useless. Such a restlessness possessed me that I
was not even able to lie still in the bed. My husband was
sleeping soundly by my side. In the fear of disturbing him I
rose, and put on my dressing-gown and slippers.

I went to the window. The sun was just rising over the calm gray
sea. For a while the majestic spectacle before me exercised a
tranquilizing influence on the irritable condition of my nerves.
But ere long the old restlessness returned upon me. I walked
slowly to and fro in the room, until I was weary of the monotony
of the exercise. I took up a book, and laid it aside again. My
attention wandered; the author was powerless to recall it. I got
on my feet once more, and looked at Eustace, and admired him and
loved him in his tranquil sleep. I went back to the window, and
wearied of the beautiful morning. I sat down before the glass and
looked at myself. How haggard and worn I was already, through
awaking before my usual time! I rose again, not knowing what to
do next. The confinement to the four walls of the room began to
be intolerable to me. I opened the door that led into my
husband's dressing-room, and entered it, to try if the change
would relieve me.