"I fancy I can see them, and they are happy in their little home. The son supports his mother. Oh, they are happy!"
"Blanche, Blanche, your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are unnaturally bright; you have a fever."
She laughingly answered:
"It is only a slight cold, the result of our visit to the peak of old Snow-Top."
He administered such simple remedies as they had at hand, tucked her up warmly in bed and sat by her side until she was asleep. Then he made a bed on the floor in the adjoining room, where he might be within call, and lay down to sleep. Being wearied with the toils of the day, he was soon asleep, and it was after midnight when he was awakened by a cough from Blanche's bed. It was followed by an exclamation of pain.
In a moment he was at her side.
"What is the matter, Blanche?" he asked, uneasily.
"I have a pain in my side."
He stooped over her, put his hand on her face and was startled to find it so dry and hot. Groping about he found a rude lamp, which he had fashioned from an old pewter pot brought from the wreck. Within the lamp was a wick made from the lint of wild hemp, fed with goat's fat. Seizing his flint and steel he kindled a light and found Blanche in a raging fever.
"Blanche, Blanche, you are ill!" said John.