Madonna Mary . scomfitedinto his commodious house. It appeared, on thewhole, that it did not matter much to them,though they had made so great a fuss about was the eldest son, even though, perhaps,he might not be the heir; and Will, poor boy,was the youngest, the one to be guarded andtaken care of; and whatever the truth might beabout Marys marriage, she was their mother;and even at this very moment, when they mighthave been thought to be torn asunder, and sepa-rated from each other, nature had stepped in andthey were all one. It was strange, but so it Madonna Mary. 245 was. Mr. Penros
Madonna Mary . scomfitedinto his commodious house. It appeared, on thewhole, that it did not matter much to them,though they had made so great a fuss about was the eldest son, even though, perhaps,he might not be the heir; and Will, poor boy,was the youngest, the one to be guarded andtaken care of; and whatever the truth might beabout Marys marriage, she was their mother;and even at this very moment, when they mighthave been thought to be torn asunder, and sepa-rated from each other, nature had stepped in andthey were all one. It was strange, but so it Madonna Mary. 245 was. Mr. Penrose had even spoken to Hugh, buthad drawn nothing from him but anxiety aboutthe sick boy, to find the best doctor, and thebest possible place to remove him to; not aword about the private aiTangement he had, nodoubt, come to make, or the transfer of Earlston;and if Will should die, perhaps, it could yet behushed up. This was the last idea in ^s mind, as he went in and shut behindhim the resounding CHAPTER XV. HE illness of Will took a bad of being a mere accumu-lation of cold and fatigue^ it de-veloped into fever, and of the mostdangerous kind. Perhaps he had been bringingit on for a long time by his careless ways, byhis long vigils and over thought; and that dayof wretched wandering, and all the confusedagitation of his mind had brought it to a at least was all that could be said. He wasvery ill; he lay for six weeks between life anddeath; and Mrs. Ochterlony, in his sick-room,had no mind nor understanding for anything butthe care of him. Aunt Agatha would have cometo help her, but she wanted no help. Shelived as women do live at such times, withoutknowing how—without sleep, without food,without air, without rest to her mind or comfortto her heart. Except, indeed, in Hughes face. Madonna Mary, 247 • which was as anxious as lier own^ but looked inupon her watching, from time to time like a faceout of heaven. She had been made to under
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