He then folded his hands, and seemed for a second or two absorbed
in mental devotion, then took the potion in his hand, and, pausing,
regarded Wayland with a look that seemed designed to penetrate his very
soul, but which caused no anxiety or hesitation in the countenance or
manner of the artist.
"Here is nothing to be feared," said Sussex to Tressilian, and swallowed
the medicine without further hesitation.
"I am now to pray your lordship," said Wayland, "to dispose yourself
to rest as commodiously as you can; and of you, gentlemen, to remain as
still and mute as if you waited at your mother's deathbed."
The chamberlain and secretary then withdrew, giving orders that all
doors should be bolted, and all noise in the house strictly prohibited.
Several gentlemen were voluntary watchers in the hall, but none remained
in the chamber of the sick Earl, save his groom of the chamber, the
artist, and Tressilian.--Wayland Smith's predictions were speedily
accomplished, and a sleep fell upon the Earl, so deep and sound that
they who watched his bedside began to fear that, in his weakened state,
he might pass away without awakening from his lethargy. Wayland Smith
himself appeared anxious, and felt the temples of the Earl slightly,
from time to time, attending particularly to the state of his
respiration, which was full and deep, but at the same time easy and
uninterrupted.