This was Shakespeare--it must mean something.
"I wish you would take a handkerchief and tie it tight round my head, it aches so." He had not been long in his seat when he saw drops fall from beneath the hands that shaded the eyes, on to the page.
"I am not accustomed to so much light, it makes my head swim a little," she said.

"Go out and close the shutter." When he came back, she lay shrivelled up among the pillows.
He heard no sound of weeping, but the shoulders shook.

He darkened the room completely.
When Gregory went to his sofa that night, she told him to wake her early; she would be dressed before breakfast.

Nevertheless, when morning came, she said it was a little cold, and lay all day watching her clothes upon the chair.

Still she sent for her oxen in the country; they would start on Monday and go down to the Colony.
In the afternoon she told him to open the window wide, and draw the bed near it.
It was a leaden afternoon, the dull rain-clouds rested close to the roofs of the houses, and the little street was silent and deserted.
Now and then a gust of wind eddying round caught up the dried leaves, whirled them hither and thither under the trees, and dropped them again into the gutter; then all was quiet.