Chapter 29

Chapter 29 THE recollection of about three days and nights succeeding this is very dim in my mind. I can recall some sensations felt in that interval; but few thoughts framed, and no actions performed. I knew I was in a small room and in a narrow bed. To that bed I seemed to have grown; I lay on it motionless as a stone; and to have torn me from it would have been almost to kill me. I took no note of the lapse of time — of the change from morning to noon, from noon to evening. I observed when any one entered or left the apartment: I could even tell who they were; I could understand what was said when the speaker stood near me; but I could not answer; to open my lips or move my limbs was equally impossible. Hannah, the servant, was my most frequent visitor. Her coming disturbed me. I had a feeling that she wished me away; that she did not understand me or my circumstances; that she was prejudiced against me. Diana and Mary appeared in the chamber once or twice a day. They would whisper sentences of this sort at my bedside — 'It is very well we took her in.' 'Yes; she would certainly have been found dead at the door in the morning, had she been left out all night. I wonder what she has gone through?' 'Strange hardships, I imagine-poor, emaciated, pallid wanderer!' 'She is not an uneducated person, I should think, by her manner of speaking; her accent was quite pure; and the clothes she took off, though splashed and wet, were little worn and fine.' 'She has a peculiar face; fleshless and haggard as it is, I rather like it; and when in good health and animated I can fancy her physiognomy would be agreeable.' Never once in their dialogues did I hear a s...