Starting up in bed to listen, he said: 'What's that?
Is that child here yet ?' 'Yes sir: she is to stay till after the funeral,' was Charles' reply, and Arthur continued: 'Bring me some cotton for my ears.

I never can stand that noise.

It is a peculiar cry.' The cotton was brought.

A window in the hall which had a habit of rattling with every breath of wind was made fast with a bit of shingle whittled out for that purpose, and then Arthur became tolerably quiet until morning, when he began to talk to himself in the German language, which Charles could not understand.

But he caught the name Gretchen, and knew she was the subject of the sick man's thoughts.