thomas kinkade painting

to my grief: I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat
in the chair near my pillow; and as he closed the door after him,
all the room darkened and my heart again sank: inexpressible sadness
weighed it down.
'Do you feel as if you should sleep, Miss?' asked Bessie, rather
softly.
Scarcely dared I answer her; for I feared the next sentence might
be rough. 'I will try.'
'Would you like to drink, or could you eat anything?'
'No, thank you, Bessie.'
'Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past twelve o'clock; but
you may call me if you want anything in the night.'
Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to ask a question.
'Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am I ill?'