The child had been, as it seems, growing sleepy, and was lying listlessly, with eyes half open, apparently taking no note of what was passing. Suddenly, however, with an expression of the wildest terror, she drew up her limbs, and cowered in the bed's head, gazing at some object; which, judging from the motion of her eyes, must have been slowly advancing from the end of the room next the door. The child made a low shuddering cry, as she grasped her mother's hand, and, with features white and tense with terror, slowly following with her eyes the noiseless course of some unseen spectre, shrinking more and more fearfully backward every moment. "What is it? Where? What is it that frightens you, my darling?" asked the poor mother, who, thrilled with horror, looked in vain for the apparition which seemed to have all but bereft the child of reason. "Stay with me--save me--keep it away--look, look at it--making signs to me--don't let it hurt me--it is angry--Oh! mamma, save me, save me!" The child said this, all the time clinging to her with both her hands, in an ecstasy of panic. "There--there, my darling," said my poor wife, "don't be afraid; there's nothing but me--your own mamma--and little baby in the room; nothing, my darling; nothing indeed." "Mamma, mamma, don't move; don't go near him"; the child continued wildly. "It's only his back now; don't make him turn again; he's untying his handkerchief. Oh! baby, baby; he'll _kill_ baby! and he's lifting up those green things from his eyes; don't you see him doing it? Mamma, mamma, why does he come here? Oh, mamma, poor baby--poor little baby!" She was looking with a terrified gaze at the little boy's bed, which lay directly opposite to her own, and in which he was sleeping calmly. "Hush, hush, my darling child," said my wife, with difficulty restraining an hysterical burst of tears; "for God's sake don't speak so wildly, my own precious love--there, there--don't be frightened--there, darling, there." "Oh! poor baby--poor little darling baby," the child continued as before; "will no one save him--tell that wicked man to go away--oh--there--why, mamma--don't--oh, sure you won't let him--don't--don't--he'll take the child's life--will you let him lie down that way on the bed--save poor little baby--oh, baby, baby, waken--his head is on your face." As she said this she raised her voice to a cry of despairing terror which made the whole room ring again.