CHAPTER XVI
MA’M’SELLE CICELY CAREW

OW long he lay there in a stupor of despair Nick

Attwood never knew. It might have been days

or weeks, for all that he took heed; for he was thinking
of his mother, and there was no room for more.

The night passed by. Then the day came, by the lines
of light that crept across the floor. The door was opened
at his back, and a trencher of bread and meat thrust in.
He did not touch it, and the rats came out of the wall and
pulled the meat about, and gnawed holes in the bread,
and squeaked, and ran along the wainscot; but he did not
care.

The afternoon dragged slowly by, and the creeping light
went up the wall until the roofs across the street shut out
the sunset. Sometimes Nick waked and sometimes he
slept, he scarce knew which nor cared; nor did he hear
the bolts grate cautiously, or see the yellow candle-light
steal in across the gloom.

“Boy!” said a soft little voice.

He started up and looked around.

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