we possessed that which was all
the world to us--in the meanwhile---

We had arrived from Windsor early in October, and had now been in London
about six weeks. Day by day, during that time, the health of my Idris
declined: her heart was broken; neither sleep nor appetite, the chosen
servants of health, waited on her wasted form. To watch her children hour
by hour, to sit by me, drinking deep the dear persuasion that I remained to
her, was all her pastime. Her vivacity, so long assumed, her affectionate
display of cheerfulness, her light-hearted tone and springy gait were gone.
I could not disguise to myself, nor could she conceal, her life-consuming
sorrow. Still change of scene, and reviving hopes might restore her; I
feared the plague only, and she was untouched by that.

I had left her this evening, reposing after the fatigues of her
preparations. Clara sat beside her, relating a story to the two boys. The
eyes of Idris were closed: but Clara perceived a sudden change in the
appearance of our eldest darling; his heavy lids veiled his eyes, an
unnatural colour burnt in his cheeks, his breath became short. Clara looked
at the mother; she slept, yet started at the pause the narrator made--
Fear of awakening and alarming her, caused Clara to go on at the eager call
of Evelyn, who was unaware of what was passing. Her eyes turned alternately
from Alfred to Idris; with trembling accents she continued her tale, till
she saw the child about to fall: starting forward she caught him, and her
cry roused Idris. She looked on her son. She saw death stealing across his
features; she laid him on a bed, she held drink to his parched lips.

Yet he might be saved. If I were there, he might be saved; perhaps it was
not the plague. Without a counsellor, what could she do? stay and behold
him die! Why at that moment was I away? "Look to him, Clara," she
exclaimed, "I will return immediately."

She inquired among those who, selected as the companions of our journey,
had taken up their residence in our house; she heard from them merely that
I had gone out with Adrian. She entreated them to seek me: she returned to
her child, he was plunged in a frightful state of torpor; again she rushed
down stairs; all was dark, desert, and silent; she lost all
self-possession; she ran into the street; she called on my name. The
pattering rain and howling wind alone replied to her. Wild fear gave wings
to her feet; she darted forward to seek me, she kne