erward she began to laugh, and then to cry; declaring, not
in choice Arabic but in familiar English, that she was 'so glad, she
didn't know what to do.'

'Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller, thoughtfully, 'be pleased to draw
nearer. First of all, will you have the goodness to inform me where I
shall find my voice; and secondly, what has become of my flesh?'

The Marchioness only shook her head mournfully, and cried again;
whereupon Mr Swiveller (being very weak) felt his own eyes affected
likewise.

'I begin to infer, from your manner, and these appearances,
Marchioness,' said Richard after a pause, and smiling with a trembling
lip, 'that I have been ill.'

'You just have!' replied the small servant, wiping her eyes. 'And
haven't you been a talking nonsense!'

'Oh!' said Dick. 'Very ill, Marchioness, have I been?'

'Dead, all but,' replied the small servant. 'I never thought you'd get
better. Thank Heaven you have!'

Mr Swiveller was silent for a long while. By and bye, he began to talk
again, inquiring how long he had been there.

'Three weeks to-morrow,' replied the servant.

'Three what?' said Dick.

'Weeks,' returned the Marchioness emphatically; 'three long, slow
weeks.'

The bare thought of having been in such extremity, caused Richard to
fall into another silence, and to lie flat down again, at his full
length. The Marchioness, having arranged the bed-clothes more
comfortably, and felt that his hands and forehead were quite cool--a
discovery that filled her with delight--cried a little more, and then
applied herself to getting tea ready, and making some thin dry toast.

While she was thus engaged, Mr Swiveller looked on with a grateful
heart, very much astonished to see how thoroughly at home she made
herself, and attributing this attention, in its origin, to Sally Brass,
whom, in his own mind, he could not thank enough. When the Marchioness
had finished her toasting, she spread a clean cloth on a tray, and
brought him some crisp slices and a great basin of weak tea, with which
(she said) the doctor had left word he might refresh himself when he
awoke. She propped him up with pillows, if not as skilfully as if she
had been a professional nurse all her life, at least as tenderly; and
looked on with unutterable satisfaction while the patient--stopping
every now and then to shake her by the hand--took his poor meal with an
appetite and relish, which the greatest dainties of the earth, under
any