"She is quite exhausted," he said, glancing upward into the old man's
face. "You have taxed her powers too far, friend."
"She is perishing of want," rejoined the old man. "I never thought how
weak and ill she was, till now."
Casting a look upon him, half-reproachful and half-compassionate, the
schoolmaster took the child in his arms, and bore her away at his utmost
speed to a small inn within sight.
The landlady came running in, with hot brandy and water, with which and
other restoratives, the child was so far recovered as to be able to
thank them in a faint voice. Without suffering her to speak another
word, the woman carried her off to bed, and after having been made warm
and comfortable, she had a visit from the doctor himself, who ordered
rest and nourishment. As Nell evinced extraordinary uneasiness on being
apart from her grandfather, he took his supper with her. Finding her
still restless on this head, they made him up a bed in an inner room, to
which he presently retired. The key of this chamber happening to be on
that side of the door which was in Nell's room; she turned it on him,
when the landlady had withdrawn, and crept to bed again with a
thankful heart.
In the morning the child was better, but so weak that she would at least
require a day's rest and careful nursing before she could proceed upon
her journey. The schoolmaster decided to remain also, and that evening
visited Nell in her room.
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