Artists -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
He had strength enough to raise that little note to his lips so soon as
he heard the door shut behind the outgoing Stephens; to kiss it over
and over again, and to place it beneath his pillow ere he sunk into
such imitation of rest as was vouchsafed to him. A want of sleep was
one of the worst symptoms of his malady, and the doctors had all agreed
that if they could only superinduce something like natural sleep, it
might aid greatly in repairing the little strength which had been given
to him originally, and which was so gradually and imperceptibly, and
yet so surely, wearing away. But that seemed to be impossible. When he
was first assisted to bed he was in a sufficiently drowsy state, partly
from the fatigue of the day, partly from the effect of the wine, of
which the doctors insisted on his taking a quantity which would have
been nothing to an ordinary man, but was much to one feeble in frame,
and unable to take any exercise to carry off its strength. Then, after
a short slumber--heavy, stertorous, and disturbed--he would wake,
bright and staring, without the smallest sign of sleep in his head or
in his eye. In vain would he toss from side to side, and try all the
known recipes for somnolence--none were of the slightest avail. He
could not sleep, he could not compose himself in the least degree, he
could not empty his mind as it were; and the mind must be, or at all
events must seem, empty before sleep will take possession of it. Lord
Caterham's mind in the dead silence of the night was even more active
than it was in the daytime. Before him rose up all the difficulties
which he had to surmount, the dangers which he had to avoid, the hopes
and fears and triumphs and vexations which made up the sum of his
bitter life. They were not many now,--they never had been diffuse at
any time; so little had Caterham been a citizen of the world, that all
his aspirations had lain within a very small compass, and now they
centred in one person--Annie Maurice. To provide for her safety when
he was not there to look after it in person; to leave such records as
would show what action he had taken in her behalf, and on what grounds
that action had been undertaken; to arm some competent and willing
person so thoroughly to bestir himself at the necessary juncture as
to prevent the chance of the conspiracy against Annie's future being
carried into effect:--these were the night-thoughts which haunted
Caterham's couch, and rendered him sleepless.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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