What
was to be done? Bring her back to life? No, he dared not--not here.
While she lay thus her helplessness protected her; but if once more she
was a living, loving woman here and so--oh, how should they escape? He
dared not touch her or look towards her--till he had made up his mind.
It was soon done. Here she must not bide, and since of herself she could
not go, why he must take her now, this moment! However far Geoffrey fell
short of virtue's stricter standard, let this always be remembered in
his favour.
He opened the door, and as he did so, thought that he heard some
one stirring in the house. And so he did; it was Mr. Granger in the
sitting-room. Hearing no more, Geoffrey concluded that it was the wind,
and turning, groped his way to the bed where Beatrice lay as still as
death. For one moment a horrible fear struck him that she might be dead.
He had heard of cases of somnambulists who, on being startled from their
unnatural sleep, only woke to die. It might be so with her. Hurriedly he
placed his hand upon her breast. Yes, her heart stirred--faintly indeed,
but still it stirred.
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