Within was a
single knitted muffatee, and a long lock of the stiffly curling
yellow hair peculiar to Dora's head. In blotted, sloping roundhand
was written:--
"My Dear Harry,--
"Good-bye, I do fele so very ill, I can't do any more. Don't forget
I allwaies was your wiffe.
"I am your affex., D. A."
We looked at each other in wonder and dismay, sure that the child
must be very ill, and indignant that we had not been told. Harold
talked of going up to town to find out; I was rather for going, or
sending, to Therford for tidings, and all the time, alas! alas! he
was smoothing and caressing the yellow tress between his fingers,
pitying the child and fancying she was being moped to death in the
school-room.
We determined on riding to Therford, and Harold had hastened to the
office to despatch some business first, when Mr. Horsman himself came
in--on his way to the Petty Sessions--to explain matters.
Mrs. Randall Horsman had arrived with her children at Therford the
day before, flying from the infection of smallpox, for which the
doctor had declared Dora to be sickening. The whole family had been
spending the autumn months at the seaside. Nessy Horsman had been
with them and had taken Dora about with him much more than had been
approved. In one of these expeditions he had taken her into the shop
of a village ratcatcher, where, it had since been ascertained, two
children were ill of smallpox.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348