She did not even know that Herbert was awake when
Rosamond brought her out into Mrs. Hornblower's room, and said,
"Have it out now, my dear, no one will hear. Scream comfortably.
It will do you good."
But Jenny could not even scream. She was in the excited agony when
the mind is far too much for the body, and joy, unrealized, is like
grief. If her brother had that day passed away, and if nothing had
been heard of her lover, she would have been all calmness and
resignation; but the revulsion had overcome her, and at the moment
she was more conscious of strangulation than of anything else.
Rosamond tended her for full half an hour, and then she seemed
almost asleep, though she resisted the attempt to undress her, with
the words, "I must go to Herbert."
"I will take care of Herbert," and Jenny was too much spent not to
acquiesce, and fell asleep almost before she was laid down on the
bed their landlady had given up to the watchers.
Rosamond's task was a comfortable one, for every hour of sleep,
every mouthful of food seemed to do its work of restoration on the
sound, healthy frame, and a smile and word of thanks met her
whenever she roused her patient with the inevitable spoon.
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