perhaps i might die herewho could tell? the doctor had said i was very ill.tears came but too easily in those foolish days, and burying my throbbing temples in the pillow, i cried as if my heart would break, or as if it had indeed broken.my emotion was none the lighter because it was imaginary, nor none the easier to bear because it was absurd.childrens troubles and terrors are only less severe than those of maturer minds, as they are shorter lived; while they last they are, if possible, more violent and less bearable.and at that time i was, to all intents and purposes, a child, and a sick, nervous, excited one besides.by and by mrs.roberts came up to where i lay motionless with my face hidden in the pillows, and, leaning over me, said in her chilling tones, are you comfortable? will you have anything? i did not move.she listened for a moment, then going to the door said to some one outside: shes asleep, sir, and doing well.you had better take some rest yourself.the door closed, and i suppressed my sobs to listen.in a few minutes mrs.roberts came again to look at me, then noiselessly left the room.i could endure it no longer, and throwing back the blankets, raised myself and sat upright.i cried for a long while; every minute the prison feeling seemed to grow stronger, till at last it drove me to that climax of desperation which, in actual prisoners, results in knocking down turnkeys, and (according to the newspapers) doing many frantic and atrocious acts, to reach the blessed sun and air, from which they have been banned and barred.i had reached that climax, i say; i had dried my tears, and sat still, with clenched hands, some wild plan of escape arranging itself in my brain, when the door suddenly opened, and mrs.roberts reappeared.oh, youre awake, are you? ill call the doctor; hes got through setting mr.rutledges arm, and was just going.i hurriedly pushed the hair from my flushed face, and tried to look composed as the doctor entered with mrs.roberts, and followed soon by mr.rutledge, who came, he said, to get the doctors directions, and to see if mrs.roberts was doing everything for me that i required.the doctor sat down by me, and taking hold of my wrist, asked me if i felt better for my sleep.mr.rutledge, looking at me, said, not much sleep, i am afraid.how is it? i pressed my lips very tight together to keep from crying, and shook my head.mrs.roberts, who did not probably notice the gesture, said, oh, yes, shes slept nicely for threequarters of an hour.then she and the doctor talked about me as if i were in the next room, and no way interested in the affair.after many directions given and received, and many injunctions and much emphasis, the doctor rose to go, saying that he should not be able to come again until the day after tomorrow (unless, of course, i should be taken with any unexpected symptoms); in the mean time he hoped he left me in safe hands (with a look direct at mrs.roberts).mr.rutledge smothered a smile, accompanied him to the door, and parted from him very courteously, then returned to me.he hoped, he said, that i did not mind trusting myself to him during the doctors absence, and mrs.roberts would, he knew, take as good care of me as the doctor himself could.he then went on to say that he had telegraphed my aunt last evening to prevent her feeling any alarm on hearing of the accident, and that he had written to her more fully by mail today, telling her of my improvement, and assuring her that it would not be necessary for her to come on, as i could have every care here.in two or three weeks, he continued, i trust you will be perfectly well and entirely fit to travel.two or three weeks! the thought was too dreadful and bursting into tears, i exclaimed: i am well enough to go now! i had rather go home with the doctor! mr.rutledge was silent for a moment, then sitting down beside me, in the doctors vacated seat, said, as if he were speaking to a very little child: you are not well enough to start now; it might do you a great deal of harm.possibly you may be able to go much sooner than the doctor thinks; only be patient a day or two, and depend upon it, i will let you go the very minute you can bear it.i shook my head and sobbed convulsively.my dear little girl, he said, you are too nervous now to be reasonable, but you must try and be quiet and not cry, for that is the very worst thing for you, and will keep you here longer than anything else.your head aches, doesnt it? yes, dreadfully, i sobbed.well, the more you cry, the more it will ache, and the more it aches, the more fever you will have, and that is just what you must get rid of before you can be fit to start for home.you will feel very differently, i assure you, tomorrow morning, after you have had a good nights sleep.i cant sleep! i exclaimed.oh yes, you can! the doctor has left you some powders that will make that all right, and i will give you one now.he mixed it in a glass that mrs.roberts had brought for the purpose, and i drank it, then followed his advice and lay my hot and throbbing head on the pillow.he sat down again, and continued, speaking soothingly, and in a manly, kind voice, still as if i were about eight years old