Dr. Ashton was so careless as to occupy his
pulpit on Sunday; but, thank goodness, I did not venture to church,
or allow Maude to go. Your Miss Ashton will be having it next."
"Of course they have advice from Garchester?" he exclaimed.
"How should I know? My opinion is that the parson himself might be
prosecuted for bringing the fever into a healthy neighbourhood. Port,
Hedges! One has need of a double portion of tonics in a time like this."
The countess-dowager's alarms were not feigned--no, nor exaggerated. She
had an intense, selfish fear of any sort of illness; she had a worse fear
of death. In any time of public epidemic her terrors would have been
almost ludicrous in their absurdity but that they were so real. And she
"fortified" herself against infection by eating and drinking more than
ever.
Nothing else was said: she shunned allusion to it when she could: and
presently she and Maude left the dining-room. "You won't be long,
Hartledon?" she observed, sweetly, as she passed him. Val only bowed in
answer, closed the door upon them, and rang for Hedges.
"Is there much alarm regarding this fever at the Rectory?" he asked of
the butler.
"Not very much, I think, my lord. A few are timid about it; as is always
the case. One of the other servants has taken it; but Mr. Hillary told me
when he was here this morning that he hoped it would not spread beyond
the Rectory.
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