CHAPTER XXXV. But if 'twas sweet, when heaven was bright, Ten Years Ago. Meanwhile, De Villeneuve shares Ellen's silent watch; and to him there was luxury in the increased and irresponsible intimacy of this darkened room, and the bed-side of pain. Mr. Jobb, very "fussy" and important, since he had seen his name in the the papers, having decided in a loud whisper that all was doing well, left the gloomy and silent scene for the, to him, more amusing attendance on Augusta and Mr. Grunter. The fat old nurse, anxious, as he said to herself, to appear "worthy of her hi re," busied herself in "tidying the room," smoothing the bed, sweeping the hearth, staring at the suf ferer, preparing beverages, shaking her head, and in coaxing, whispered ejaculations of "Poor dear young gentleman! Don't trouble yourself, miss! Lor love your pretty face!you looks as white as a sheet; you'd better go for a nice walk, miss, in the park, or for a drive in your coach. Sick rooms is very well for them as is used to 'em-poor bodies, who makes their livelihood by 'em; but if I was a born lady, like you, miss, with my watch to my side, I'd never set foot in none of 'em. And so I said, miss, to my lady Halmeria, (Lord Loftly's daughter) miss, where I nursed last; Lor, miss, when her brother, the Honourable Frederic Greville, was ill of the typhus, she'd slip in unawares to every one-even to me-to hide in his bed-curtains, to watch by him all night; as fine a young lady as I ever set eyes on, miss. Poor soul! the young gentleman recovered, but she caught the typhus. I nursed her night and day for a fortnight, but she died; and this is mourning the family gave me, and very handsome too, besides Lady Halmeria's body-linen; and ten guineas the Honourable Mr. Frederick give me over my pay." "And where is he now ?" whispered Ellen, touched by the tale of the sister's devotion. "I saw the butler yesterday, miss; they say he's just gone abroad to Italy, I believe; but he do so take on after Lady Halmeria! Mr. Thomas thinks if he don't die, he'll go melancholy." "Beautiful and rare devotion !" murmured De Villeneuve. Ellen looked up; his eyes were full of tears. Then, miss, there was my Lady Simpkins, wife of Sir Peter Simpkins, who was Lord Mayor — ‘for I've a very grand connection, miss-all in the nobility line.' She was as fine a lady, for her age, as ever stepped; and when Sir Peter had the gout, she fretted and worreted about him, till she got narvous. Howsomever, the very day after Sir Peter signed his will, my lady's narves was so bad, she was obliged to go off to Cheltenham. Well, miss, Sir Peter was so used to have her about him night and day, that he sent for her She wrote word she'd come when she back. was a little better-folk did say Sir Peter's letter found my lady at a ball. In a week he was on his death-bed; my lady came home post when she knew of it. Lor, miss! Sir Peter, in a wicious fit of the gout, had altered his will; and my lady, instead of three thousand a year, have got only two hundred. "Twas her own fault, for 'customing him to be waited on by her. I wonder gentlefolks ever does it." "I saw my cousin move," said Ellen, to whom, though Mrs. Job's first story had been interesting, nothing was so odious as gossip. "I think even your whispering disturbs him." "Not he, miss! poor dear soul! I haven't been used to sick rooms for forty years, not to know when I can be heard, and when I can't. None hears whispers, so soon as the dying, and not one of the hundreds I've ever 'tended could say, if they were to come to life this blessed minute, they'd ever heard a whisper of mine." CHAPTER XXXV. But if 'twas sweet, when heaven was bright, Ten Years Ago. Meanwhile, De Villeneuve shares Ellen's silent watch; and to him there was luxury in the increased and irresponsible intimacy of this darkened room, and the bed-side of pain. Mr. Jobb, very "fussy" and important, since he had seen his name in the papers, having decided in a loud whisper that all was doing well, left the gloomy and silent scene for the, to him, more amusing attendance on Augusta and Mr. Grunter. The fat old nurse, anxious, as she said to herself, to appear "worthy of her hire," busied |