Edwards continued to move about the room, in deep reflection, for a considerable time longer.  Then he went slowly up to his wife’s chamber.  She was lying upon the bed, with her face buried in a pillow.  She did not stir, although his footfall was distinct upon the floor.  Edwards went to the bedside, and leaning over, said, with more affection in his voice than he had ever used since their marriage, taking her hand in his, with a gentle pressure, at the same time—­

“Kate, it grieves me to see you so ill both in body and mind.”

There was an instant quiver in every limb, before so motionless; but the sufferer neither arose nor made any reply.

“Unless something be done for your relief,” continued Mr. Edwards, in the same tone, “you cannot live.  You know how much we are all afflicted, and how anxious we all feel on account of your loss of health and spirits.”

The hand of his wife was still in his, and he held it with the same gentle pressure, that was now as gently returned.  The impulse of Mr. Edwards was to remove his hand the instant Kate showed this consciousness of a tenderer manifestation than he was accustomed to give; but he restrained himself, and still let his hand rest upon hers.  He felt that she was listening to him, and that he had the ability to influence her as he would, if he used the power of a well-counterfeited regard.  After a few moments’ silence, he went on:—­

“I am sure that a change of air and a change of scene will do you good.  This Doctor R—­has already said, and you know that we all agree in the opinion.  Now, will you not, to relieve the minds of your friends, even if you feel reluctant to quit this seclusion into which you have shrunk, make an effort?  I am ready to go with you, at any moment.  Come! arouse yourself; if not for your own sake, for ours, for mine.”

The way in which this was said, more than the words themselves, acted like a charm upon Mrs. Edwards.  The almost pulseless lethargy into which she had fallen passed off quickly, and rising up, she pushed back the matted hair from her face, and said, “I know you all think me perverse and unreasonable, and I may be so to some extent; but I will try to do as you wish.  I feel as weak in mind and body as a child; and, like a child, I will submit myself to your direction.  Only, Percy,”—­her voice had a most touching pathos as she said this,—­“love me as a child! Speak to me as gently, as tenderly as you did just now, and I will be the happiest being alive.”

As she spoke, she leaned over towards her husband, and, burying her face on his bosom, sobbed aloud.

Cold-hearted as was Percy Edwards, this exhibition moved him.  It was unexpected, and, therefore, he was not prepared to meet it in the way he would otherwise have done.  As Kate lay weeping upon his bosom, and almost clinging to him, he experienced a change of feeling towards her.  Pity melted into tenderness, and, on the impulse of the moment, he drew his arm around her, and, bending down, touched his lips to her forehead.