"But why shouldn't you go yourself, mum? Cavendish Square
isn't so very far. Don't you remember our going there one morning with
baby? It's a fine evening, and a little fresh air would do you good."
Clarissa was quite willing to go on the errand herself. It would be doing
something at least. She might see the physician, and obtain his promise to
come to her early next day; and beside that sick-bed she was of so little
use. She could only hold her darling in her lap, when he grew weary of his
bed, or carry him up and down the room sometimes. Jane, whose nerves were
as steady as a rock, did all the rest.
She looked at the bed. It was hard to leave that tender little sufferer
even for half an hour.
"If he should grow worse while I am away?" she said doubtfully.
"No fear of that," replied Jane. "He's sleeping better now than he has
slept for ever so long. God grant he's upon the turn!"
"God grant it! And you won't forget the medicine at half-past eight?"
"Lor', mum, as if I should forget!"
"Then I'll go," said Clarissa.
She put on her bonnet and shawl, startled a little by the white face that
looked at her from the glass. The things she had worn when she left Paris
were the darkest and plainest in her wardrobe. They had grown shabby by
this time, and had a very sombre look. Even in these garments the tall slim
figure had a certain elegance; but it was not a figure to be remarked at
nightfall, in the London streets.
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