"The book did indeed interest me. There was one terrible story which took a hold on my mind--the story of a man who stabbed his own wife in a sleep-walking dream. I thought of putting down my book after that, and then changed my mind again and went on. The next chapters were not so interesting; they were full of learned accounts of why we fall asleep, and what our brains do in that state, and such like. It ended in my falling asleep, too, in my armchair by the fireside.
"I don't know what o'clock it was when I went to sleep. I don't know how long I slept, or whether I dreamed or not. The candle and the fire had both burned out, and it was pitch dark when Iwoke. I can't even say why I woke--unless it was the coldness of the room.
"There was a spare candle on the chimney- piece. I found the matchbox, and got a light. Then for the first time, I turned round toward the bed; and I saw--"She had seen the dead body of her husband, murdered while she was unconsciously at his side--and she fainted, poor creature, at the bare remembrance of it.
The proceedings were adjourned. She received every possible care and attention; the chaplain looking after her welfare as well as the surgeon.
