ays had Lucilla spoken so humbly!

CHAPTER XVII

Though she's as like to this one as a crab is like to an apple,
I can tell what I can tell.--_King Lear_

Often a first grief, where sorrow was hitherto been a stranger, is but
the foretaste to many another, like the first hailstorm, after long
sunshine, preluding a succession of showers, the clouds returning after
the rain, and obscuring the sky of life for many a day.

Those who daily saw Mrs. Fulmort scarcely knew whether to attribute her
increasing invalidism to debility or want of spirits; and hopes were
built on summer heat, till, when it came, it prostrated her strength, and
at last, when some casual ailment had confined her to bed, there was no
rally. All took alarm; a physician was called in, and the truth was
disclosed. There was no formed disease; but her husband's death, though
apparently hardly comprehended, had taken away the spring of life, and
she was withering like a branch severed from the stem. Remedies did but
disturb her torpor by feverish symptoms that hastened her decline, and
Dr. Martyn privately told Miss Charlecote that the absent sons and
daughters ought to be warned that the end must be very near.

Honor, as lovingly and gently as possible, spoke to Phoebe. The girl's
eyes filled with tears, but it was in an almost well-pleased tone that
she said, 'Dear mamma, I always knew she felt it.'

'Ah! little did we think how deeply went the stroke that showed no
wound!'

'Yes! She felt that she was going to him. We could never have made her
happy here.'

'You are content, my unselfish one?'

'Don't talk to me about myself, please!' implored Phoebe. 'I have too
much to do for that. What did he say? That the others should be written
to? I will take my case and write in mamma's room.'

Immediate duty was her refuge from anticipation, gentle tendance from the
sense of misery, and, though her mother's restless feebleness needed
constant waiting on, her four notes were completed before post-time.
Augusta was eating red mullet in Guernsey, Juliana was on a round of
visits in Scotland, Mervyn was supposed to be in Paris, Robert alone was
near at hand.

At night Phoebe sent Boodle to bed; but Miss Fennimore insisted on
sharing her pupil's watch. At first there was nothing to do; the patient
had fallen into a heavy slumber, and the daughter sat by the bed, the
governess at the window, unoccupied save by their books. P