I felt these impressions, but my mind seemed to share the exhaustion of my body, and I was in no condition to dwell on them with any useful reference to the doubtful present or the threatening future. I tried a second time to run out and find Laura, but my head was giddy and my knees trembled under me. There was no choice but to give it up again and return to the sofa, sorely against my will.

The quiet in the house, and the low murmuring hum of summer insects outside the open window, soothed me. My eyes closed of themselves, and I passed gradually into a strange condition, which was not waking⁠—for I knew nothing of what was going on about me, and not sleeping⁠—for I was conscious of my own repose. In this state my fevered mind broke loose from me, while my weary body was at rest, and in a trance, or daydream of my fancy⁠—I know not what to call it⁠—I saw Walter Hartright. I had not thought of him since I rose that morning⁠—Laura had not said one word to me either directly or indirectly referring to him⁠—and yet I saw him now as plainly as if the past time had returned, and we were both together again at Limmeridge House.