She gained her own room and threw herself into her chair in a passion of tears and sobs.

Nothing that had ever happened in all her young life had ever grieved her anything like this.  She had loved Ishmael with all her heart, and she knew that Ishmael loved Claudia with all of his; but the knowledge of this fact had never brought to her the bitter sorrow that the sight of Ishmael’s condition had smitten her with this afternoon.  For there was scarcely purer love among the angels in heaven than was that of Beatrice for Ishmael.  First of all she desired his good; next his affection; next his presence; but there was scarcely selfishness enough in Bee’s nature to wish to possess him all for her own.

First his good!  And here, weeping, sobbing, and praying by turns, she resolved to devote herself to that object; to do all that she possibly could to shield him from the suspicion of this night’s event; and to save him from falling into a similar misfortune.

She remained in her own room until tea-time, and then bathed her eyes, and smoothed her hair, and went down to join the family at the table.

“Well, Bee,” said the judge, “have you found Ishmael yet?”

Bee hesitated, blushed, reflected a moment, and then answered: 

“Yes, uncle; he is sleeping; he is not well; and I would not have him disturbed if I were you; for sleep will do him more good than anything else.”

“Certainly.  Why, Bee, did you ever know me to have anybody waked up in the whole course of my life?  Powers, and the rest of you, hark ye:  Let no one call Mr. Worth.  Let him sleep until the last trump sounds, or until he wakes up of his own accord!”

Powers bowed, and said he would see the order observed.

Soon after tea was over, the family, fatigued with the day’s excitement, retired to bed.

Bee went up to her room in the back attic; but she did not go to bed, or even undress, for she knew that Ishmael was locked out; and so she threw a light shawl around her, and seated herself at the open back window, which from its high point of view commanded every nook and cranny of the back grounds, to watch until Ishmael should wake up and approach the house, so that she might go down and admit him quietly, without disturbing the servants and exciting their curiosity and conjectures.  No one should know of Ishmael’s misfortune, for she would not call it fault, if any vigilance of hers could shield him.  All through the still evening, all through the deep midnight, Bee sat and watched.

When Ishmael had fallen asleep, the sun was still high above the Western horizon; but when he awoke the stars were shining.

He raised himself to a sitting posture, and looked around him, utterly bewildered and unable to collect his scattered faculties, or to remember where he was, or how he came there, or what had occurred, or who he himself really was—­so deathlike had been his sleep.