Donne. She did not understand that such exhaustion is but the
natural consequence of violent agitation and severe tension of
feeling. The only relief she experienced was in constantly
serving Leonard; she had almost an animal's jealousy lest any one
should come between her and her young. Mr. Benson saw this
jealous suspicion, although he could hardly understand it; but he
calmed his sister's wonder and officious kindness, so that the
two patiently and quietly provided all that Ruth might want, but
did not interfere with her right to nurse Leonard. But when he
was recovering, Mr. Benson, with the slight tone of authority he
knew how to assume when need was, bade Ruth lie down and take
some rest, while his sister watched. Ruth did not answer, but
obeyed in a dull, weary kind of surprise at being so commanded.
She lay down by her child, gazing her fill at his calm slumber;
and, as she gazed, her large white eye lids were softly pressed
down as with a gentle, irresistible weight, and she fell asleep.
She dreamed that she was once more on the lonely shore, striving
to carry away Leonard from some pursuer--some human pursuer--she
knew he was human, and she knew who he was, although she dared
not say his name even to herself, he seemed so close and present,
gaining on her flying footsteps, rushing after her as with the
sound of the roaring tide. Her feet seemed heavy weights fixed to
the ground; they would not move.
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