Perhaps I might die here--who could tell? The doctor had said I was very ill. Tears came but too easily in those foolish days, and burying my throbbing temples in the pillow, I cried as if my heart would break, or as if it had indeed broken. My emotion was none the lighter because it was imaginary, nor none the easier to bear because it was absurd. Children's troubles and terrors are only less severe than those of maturer minds, as they are shorter lived; while they last they are, if possible, more violent and less bearable. And at that time I was, to all intents and purposes, a child, and a sick, nervous, excited one besides. By and by Mrs. Roberts came up to where I lay motionless with my face hidden in the pillows, and, leaning over me, said in her chilling tones, "Are you comfortable? Will you have anything?" I did not move. She listened for a moment, then going to the door said to some one outside: "She's asleep, sir, and doing well. You had better take some rest yourself." The door closed, and I suppressed my sobs to listen. In a few minutes Mrs. Roberts came again to look at me, then noiselessly left the room. I could endure it no longer, and throwing back the blankets, raised myself and sat upright. I cried for a long while; every minute the prison feeling seemed to grow stronger, till at last it drove me to that climax of desperation which, in actual prisoners, results in knocking down turnkeys, and (according to the newspapers) doing many frantic and atrocious acts, to reach "the blessed sun and air," from which they have been "banned and barred." I had reached that climax, I say; I had dried my tears, and sat still, with clenched hands, some wild plan of escape arranging itself in my brain, when the door suddenly opened, and Mrs. Roberts reappeared. "Oh, you're awake, are you? I'll call the doctor; he's got through setting Mr. Rutledge's arm, and was just going." I hurriedly pushed the hair from my flushed face, and tried to look composed as the doctor entered with Mrs. Roberts, and followed soon by Mr. Rutledge, who came, he said, to get the doctor's directions, and to see if Mrs. Roberts was doing everything for me that I required. The doctor sat down by me, and taking hold of my wrist, asked me if I felt better for my sleep. Mr. Rutledge, looking at me, said, "Not much sleep, I am afraid. How is it?" I pressed my lips very tight together to keep from crying, and shook my head. Mrs. Roberts, who did not probably notice the gesture, said, "Oh, yes, she's slept nicely for three-quarters of an hour."