She no longer took any notice of
surrounding objects. There was an awfulness in this tranquillity, that
filled her friends with apprehensions. The physician ordered that she
should be kept perfectly quiet; or that, if she evinced any agitation,
she should be gently lulled, like a child, by some favourite tune.
She remained in this state for hours, hardly seeming to breathe, and
apparently sinking into the sleep of death. Her chamber was profoundly
still. The attendants moved about it with noiseless tread; every thing
was communicated by signs and whispers. Her lover sat by her side,
watching her with painful anxiety, and fearing that every breath which
stole from her pale lips would be the last.
At length she heaved a deep sigh; and, from some convulsive motions,
appeared to be troubled in her sleep. Her agitation increased,
accompanied by an indistinct moaning. One of her companions,
remembering the physician's instructions, endeavoured to lull her by
singing, in a low voice, a tender little air, which was a particular
favourite of Annette's. Probably it had some connexion in her mind
with her own story; for every fond girl has some ditty of the kind,
linked in her thoughts with sweet and sad remembrances.
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