self that night,
the first night after their arrival. She had said he was ill when all
was well. And lo! sudden punishment scathing and terrible had come to
her out of the angry skies.

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE EXPERIENCES OF BICE.

Sir Tom was concerned and anxious, but not alarmed like the women. After
all it was a complaint of which children recovered every day. It had
nothing to do with the child's lungs, which had been enfeebled by his
former illness. He had as good a chance as any other in the present
malady. Sir Tom was much depressed for an hour or two, but when
everything was done that could be done, and an experienced woman arrived
to whom the "case," though "anxious," as she said, did not appear
immediately alarming, he forced his mind to check that depression, and
to return to the cares which, if less grave, harassed and worried him
more. Lucy was invisible all day. She spoke to him through the closed
door from behind the curtain, but in a voice which he could scarcely
hear and which had no tone of individuality in it, but only a faint
human sound of distress. "He is no better. They say we cannot expect him
to be better," she said. "Come down, dear, and have some dinner," said
the round and large voice of Sir Tom, which even into that stillness
brought a certain cheer. But as it sounded into the shut-up room, where
nobody ventured to speak above their breath, it was like a bell pealing
or a discharge of artillery, something that broke up the quiet, and
made, or so the poor mother thought, the little patient start in his
uneasy bed. Dinner! oh how could he ask it, how could he think of it?
Sir Tom went away with a sigh of mingled uneasiness and impatience. He
had always thought Lucy a happy exception to the caprices and vagaries
of womankind. He had hoped that she was without nerves, as she had
certainly been without those whims that amuse a man in other people's
wives, but disgust him in his own. Was she going to turn out just like
the rest, with extravagant terrors, humours, fancies--like all of them?
Why should not she come to dinner, and why speak to him only from behind
the closed door? He was annoyed and almost angry with Lucy. There had
been something the matter, he reflected, for some time. She had taken
offence at something; but surely the appearance of a real trouble might,
at least, have made an end of that. He felt vexed and impatient as he
sat down with Jock alone. "You will have to get out