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74 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
Her account was so simple and yet so heartrending that
it affected me strongly, and probably her story, impressing
itself on the cells of my already overwrought brain, led
up to what followed.
All of a sudden the lady ceased talking, and, gazing at
me with a look of dismay, exclaimed sympathetically
—
"Are you ill?
"
"I? "
" Yes, you look ill. You should try and get some
sleep."
"To tell you the truth, I never closed my eyes last
night, and I am over-tired. I’ve been suffering from
sleeplessness for some time, and nothing seems to be able
to procure me the much-needed rest."
" Let me try. Go to bed at once. I will give you a
draught that will send you to sleep standing."
She rose, pushed me gently before her, and forced me
to go to bed. Then she disappeared for a moment and
returned with a small flask, containing a sleeping draught.
She gave me a dose in a spoon.
"Now you are sure to be able to sleep."
I thanked her, and she carefully covered me with the
blankets. How well she understood what she was about !
She radiated warmth, that warmth which a baby seeks in
the arms of its mother. Under the gentle touch of her
hands I grew calm, and two minutes later unconsciousness
began to steal over me. I seemed to have become an
infant again. I saw my mother busying herself round my
bed and caring for me. Gradually her fading features
mingled and became one with the finely-chiselled face of
the Baroness and the sympathetic expression of the com-
passionate nurse who had just left me. In the care of
these women, who hovered round my bed, I faded away
like a paling colour, went out like a candle, lost
consciousness.
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