"
Toward the dusk of the evening he returned with his luggage to Aaron's
Buildings. He took off his boots in the passage and carried his trunk
upstairs himself; stopping, as he passed the first floor, to make his
inquiries. Mr. Merrick was present to answer them.
"She was awake and wandering," said the doctor, "a few minutes since.
But we have succeeded in composing her, and she is sleeping now."
"Have no words escaped her, sir, which might help us to find her
friends?"
Mr. Merrick shook his head.
"Weeks and weeks may pass yet," he said, "and that poor girl's story may
still be a sealed secret to all of us. We can only wait."
So the day ended--the first of many days that were to come.
CHAPTER II.
THE warm sunlight of July shining softly through a green blind; an open
window with fresh flowers set on the sill; a strange bed, in a strange
room; a giant figure of the female sex (like a dream of Mrs. Wragge)
towering aloft on one side of the bed, and trying to clap its hands;
another woman (quickly) stopping the hands before they could make any
noise; a mild expostulating voice (like a dream of Mrs. Wragge again)
breaking the silence in these words, "She knows me, ma'am, she knows me;
if I mustn't be happy, it will be the death of me!"--such were the
first sights, such were the first sounds, to which, after six weeks of
oblivion, Magdalen suddenly and strangely awoke.
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