One day, perceiving this growing illusion, I said, "I really believe my nerves are getting overstretched: my mind has suffered somewhat too much a malady is growing upon it--what shall I do?
How shall I keep well ?" Indeed there was no way to keep well under the circumstances.

At last a day and night of peculiarly agonizing depression were succeeded by physical illness, I took perforce to my bed.

About this time the Indian summer closed and the equinoctial storms began; and for nine dark and wet days, of which the hours rushed on all turbulent, deaf, dishevelled--bewildered with sounding hurricane--I lay in a strange fever of the nerves and blood.

Sleep went quite away.

I used to rise in the night, look round for her, beseech her earnestly to return.