Her tone was noncommittal. Sophy said, “Dear me! I mean, how charming! Was it pretty?”
“I daresay it may have been. I find I do not care for poems on such a subject,” Cecilia said quietly.
Sophy said nothing. After a moment, Cecilia added, “Although it was impossible for me to return Lord Charlbury’s regard, I must always be sensible of the delicacy of his behavior and the extreme kindness he has shown us in our trouble. I — I wish you may be brought to reward him, Sophy! You are in general above stairs, and so cannot know the many hours he has spent with my mother, talking to her, and playing at backgammon with her, only, I am persuaded, to relieve us a little of that duty.”
Sophy could not help smiling at this. “Not to relieve me, Cecy, for he must know that the care of my aunt does not fall upon me! If a compliment is intended, you must certainly take it to yourself.”
“No, no, it is mere goodness of heart! That he has an ulterior motive I will not credit.” She smiled, and added quizzingly, “I could wish that your other beau would do half as much!”
“Bromford? Do “not tell me he has ventured within a hundred paces of the house! I should certainly not believe you!”
“No, indeed! And I have it from Charles that he avoids him as though he, too, were infected. Charles makes a jest of it, but Eugenia’s conduct he does not mention.”
“It would be too much to expect of him.”
A movement from the bed put an end to the conversation, nor was the subject again referred to by the cousins. Amabel’s illness, reaching its climax, banished all other thoughts from their heads. For several days, the gravest fears possessed the minds of all those who continually saw the invalid; and old Nurse, obstinately refusing to believe in newfangled diseases, brought on one of Lady Ombersley’s worst attacks of nervous spasms by confiding in her that she had recognized the complaint from the start as being typhus. It took the combined exertions of Lady Ombersley’s son, daughter, and physician to disabuse her mind of this hideous conviction; while his lordship, to whom she had communicated it, sought relief in the only way that seemed to him possible, and, in consequence, not only had to be escorted home from his club, but suffered so severe a recrudescence of his gout that he was unable to leave his room for several days afterward.
But Amabel survived the crisis. The fever began to abate; and although its ravages left her listless and emaciated, Dr. Baillie was able to assure her mother that, provided that there was no relapse, he now entertained reasonable hopes of her complete recovery. He handsomely gave Sophy much of the credit for the improvement in the little girl’s condition; and Lady Ombersley, shedding tears, said that she shuddered to think where they would any of them have been without her dearest niece.