[CHAPTER XXV.]
THE DOCTOR FROM NEWCASTLE.
LADY Thornyhaugh turned out a true prophet. Amabel slept long and heavily, and when she waked she was unable to rise. The old lady came up to see her, and pronounced at once that she was in for some sort of fever.
The disease did not seem very violent at first. Amabel was wandering at times, but she always knew my voice and was as docile as a child. She had bad nights and slept a good deal in the day-time. She had no appetite, and would take nothing but tea, to the great annoyance of Mrs. Alice, who held tea to be a new-fangled poison; and ranked it with a broken covenant, a toleration of sectaries, and all the other crying evils of the time. All the evils then existing in the kingdoms were attributed by her to one of two causes—a broken covenant, and the iniquitous union between England and Scotland.
I cannot say I have to this day a very clear notion of this same covenant, though I heard of it, till I wished either that it had not been made at all, or that it had been broken more effectually and blown out of remembrance.
But, day by day, Amabel grew more feeble and wasted, till at last she could not raise her head from the pillow, or her hand to her head. One day she called me to her bed-side—
"Lucy!" said she in a whisper. "I am going to die."
I could not contradict her. I believed it too, though I dared not dwell on the thought for a moment.
"I know my aunt and Mrs. Alice think so!" she continued. "I should be content, Lucy, only for you. My life has not been long, but I have learned that this world is a sad place for motherless girls."
"You must not talk, my dearest, you will exhaust yourself!" was all I could say.