Meantime, up-stairs, Eudora, under the spell of a strange fascination, pored over the Times’ account of the tragedy at Allworth Abbey. There she saw her own blameless name held up to public scorn and execration.
When she had finished reading, she let the paper drop listlessly from her hands, while she herself fell again into that stupor of despair which threatened to undermine her reason.
In this miserable torpor she sat motionless, until the entrance of the landlady to lay the cloth for her solitary dinner.
The good woman was, as usual, full of kindness, solicitude, and gossip, but all this availed nothing in arousing the wretched girl from her apathy. Even the dinner, when prepared, remained untasted, nor could the landlady prevail upon her stricken lodger to approach the table.
“Oh, this will never do in the world! The girl will kill herself,” thought good Mrs. Corder, as at length she carried away the untouched spring chicken and green peas. “I’ll just wait till tea-time, and then if a cup of good strong green tea don’t rouse her out of this, I know what I’ll do. I’ll just make free to call in the medical man from over the way to look at her. I’m not a-going to let such a profitable lodger as she is die for want of seeing after, I know.”
And accordingly, an hour after the failure of the dinner, Mrs. Corder brought up Eudora’s tea, with some delicate cream toast and delicious guava jelly, all of which she arranged in the most tempting manner upon the table. She then besought her young lodger to partake of it, hinting at the same time that unless the latter would listen to reason in a matter in which her own health was concerned, it would really be necessary to call in the medical man over the way to see her.
The threat of a visit from the doctor had more effect than all the other arguments by Mrs. Corder. Eudora suffered herself to be seated at the table, and drank off the cup of tea that the careful hostess put into her hand.
And such was the beneficial effect of that blessed gift to woman, “the cup that cheers, and not inebriates,” that Eudora, notwithstanding all her wrongs, griefs and terrors, felt her vital spirits returning, and with them her natural relish for food. And to Mrs. Corder’s great joy she ate a round of toast and a spoonful of jelly.
“Now, there’s for you! now then you’ll do. See what it is to take advice. If you had had your own way, you’d a’starved yourself nearly to death, and been ill. And now, if you’ll take more advice, you’ll go right to bed and to sleep,” said the delighted woman as she cleared away the table.
Eudora followed her counsel, and retired almost immediately to bed, where as soon as her light was put out, and her head was dropped upon her pillow, a feeling of drowsiness stole over her brain, and she slept and forgot her sorrows.