This restlessness, following on the repose of the day, ought perhaps to have made me anxious, for I have since observed that when death is very near an apprehensive unrest often sets in both with men and animals.

It seems as if they dreaded to resign themselves to sleep, lest as they slumber the last enemy should seize them unawares.
They try to fling off the bedclothes, they sometimes must leave their beds and walk.

So it was with poor John Maltravers on his last Christmas Eve.

I had sat with him grieving for his disquiet until he seemed to grow more tranquil, and at length fell asleep.

I was sleeping that night in his room instead of Parnham, and tired with sitting up through the previous night, I flung myself, dressed as I was, upon the bed.