CHAPTER IX 100
another flight of steps; these I mounted, and then just opposite to me was Miss Temple ' s room. A light shone through the keyhole and from under the door; a profound stillness pervaded the vicinity. Coming near, I found the door slightly ajar; probably to admit some fresh air into the close abode of sickness. Indisposed to hesitate, and full of impatient impulses-- soul and senses quivering with keen throes-- I put it back and looked in. My eye sought Helen, and feared to find death.
Close by Miss Temple ' s bed, and half covered with its white curtains, there stood a little crib. I saw the outline of a form under the clothes, but the face was hid by the hangings: the nurse I had spoken to in the garden sat in an easy-chair asleep; an unsnuffed candle burnt dimly on the table. Miss Temple was not to be seen: I knew afterwards that she had been called to a delirious patient in the fever-room. I advanced; then paused by the crib side: my hand was on the curtain, but I preferred speaking before I withdrew it. I still recoiled at the dread of seeing a corpse.
" Helen!" I whispered softly, " are you awake?"
She stirred herself, put back the curtain, and I saw her face, pale, wasted, but quite composed: she looked so little changed that my fear was instantly dissipated.
" Can it be you, Jane?" she asked, in her own gentle voice.
" Oh!" I thought, " she is not going to die; they are mistaken: she could not speak and look so calmly if she were."
I got on to her crib and kissed her: her forehead was cold, and her cheek both cold and thin, and so were her hand and wrist; but she smiled as of old.
" Why are you come here, Jane? It is past eleven o ' clock: I heard it strike some minutes since."