It was my habit to take whatever sleep I could in the course of the
afternoon, leaving Susan Dodd on guard, so as to be able to sit up
all night. Susan had begged very hard to share this night-watching,
but I insisted upon her taking her usual rest, so as to be bright
and fresh in the day. I felt the night-work was the more important
duty, and could trust that to no one but myself.

Unfortunately it happened very often that I was quite unable to
sleep when I went to my room in the afternoon to lie down. Half my
time I used to lie there wide awake thinking of my darling girl, and
praying for her speedy recovery. On the afternoon that followed the
Manchester doctor's second visit I went to my room as usual; but I
was more than ever disinclined to sleep. For the first time since
the fever began I felt a horrible dread that the end might be fatal;
and I lay tossing restlessly from side to side, meditating on every
word and look of the physician's, and trying to convince myself that
there was no real ground for my alarm.

I had been lying awake like this for more than an hour, when I heard
the door of Milly's dressing-room--which was close to my door--closed
softly; and with a nervous quickness to take alarm I sprang up, and
went out into the corridor, thinking that Susan was coming to summon
me. I found myself face to face, not with Susan Dodd, but with Mrs.
Darrell.

She gave a little start at seeing me, and stood with her hand still
upon the handle of the dressing-room door, looking at me with the
strangest expression I ever saw in any human countenance. Alarm,
defiance, hatred--what was it?