"In the youthful being—" again began Mr. Wood.
"Excuse me, Sir," impatiently interrupted Cornelius, "but the coach will soon pass by; is there anything that can be done for the child?"
"Yes, Sir," drily answered Mr. Wood, "there are several things to be done for the young lady; the first is to put her to bed directly."
"To bed?" uneasily said Cornelius.
"Directly. The second, to administer a sedative draught, that will make her spend the night in a state of deep repose."
"Then we must actually sleep here?"
"Of deep repose. The third is not to attempt moving her for the next twelve hours."
"Remember, Sir, you said it was only feverishness."
"It is nothing more now," replied the inexorable Mr. Wood, in a tone threatening anything from scarlatina to typhus if his directions were disregarded. Cornelius sighed, submitted, asked for the sedative draught, and consigned me to the care of the grim landlady.
I allowed her to undress me and put me to bed in a dull little room upstairs; but when she attempted to make me take the sedative, duly sent round by Mr. Wood, I buried my face in the pillow. Though she said "Miss!" in a most threatening accent, she could not conquer my mute obstinacy. She departed in great indignation.