“They says,” observed Martha, always glad of an opportunity to gossip,—“they says that the fever be raging in a terrible way. There’s been three children carried off in one house, and now the mother’s a-sickening. The baker says ’tis just like the plague; people die a’most before they’ve time to know they be ill!”
“I wonder if my turn will come next,” said Vincent, as Martha quitted the little parlour. “I had the place next to Wilson in the class, and we were wrestling together on the green. Oh, don’t look so frightened,” he added more cheerfully, “there’s nothing the matter with me now.”
He walked to the window and looked out, having scarcely tasted his breakfast. “Did you ever see such a day!” he exclaimed; “the snow falls, not in flakes, but in masses! I don’t believe that the coach will be able to run. There were three horses to it yesterday; they could scarcely drag it along, and snow has been falling ever since. One would be glad of a little sunshine. I think that this winter never will end!”
Vincent remained so long listlessly watching the snow, that Clemence at last suggested that he should read to her a little, while she would go on with her work. Vincent, with a yawn, consented; but though the book had been selected for its power of entertaining, this day it did not seem to amuse. Vincent did not read with his wonted spirit, and soon handed over the volume to Clemence.
Mrs. Effingham read a few pages, and then suddenly stopping, looked uneasily at her boy. He was leaning his brow on his hand, and closing his eyes as if in thought or in pain.
“You are unwell, my Vincent!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, I’m all right,” was the nonchalant reply.
“The death of his young companion has naturally saddened his spirits. God grant that this depression have no other cause!” was the silent thought of the step-mother.
She read a little longer, and stopped again. “Indeed, my son, you do not look well!” Clemence rose and laid her hand upon his forehead—it was feverish and hot to the touch.
“Well, I do not feel quite as usual,” owned Vincent, scarcely raising his heavy eyelids. “I’ve such a burning feeling in my throat.”