He tried to pass me
without stopping; but I put both hands on him, and said--'Oh, Henry!
what does ail you?' 'Nothing of any account,' he answered, in a low,
husky tone. 'I don't feel right well, and am going to my room to lie
down.' And saying this, he brushed right past me, and went up
stairs. I followed after him, but when I tried his door it was
fastened on the inside. I called three times before he answered, and
then he said--'Mother, I'm not sick; but I feel bad and want to be
alone. Please don't disturb me to-night.' I don't think I would have
known the voice if it hadn't been just then and there. Knowing his
disposition, anxious and troubled as I was, I felt that it would be
best for the time being to let him alone. And I did so. For an hour
or more all in his room was as still as death, and I began to grow
very uneasy. Then I heard his feet upon the floor moving about. I
heard him walk to his bureau--my ears served me for eyes--then to
the mantlepiece, and then to the window. All was still again for
some minutes. My heart beat like a hammer, as one vague suggestion
after another floated through my mind.
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