Lucy was struck with the movement of the hand.

It was shut over something that it concealed.
'I don't want to make you angry,' she said, trying to speak gently and keep down the physical tumult of the heart; 'but it is not good for you to be up like this.

You are not strong--you ought to have rest.' The grip upon her arm relaxed.
'I don't rest now'-- a miserable sigh came out of the darkness.

'I sleep sometimes--but I don't rest.

And it used all to be so happy once--whether I was awake or asleep.