"--SPENSER.
"No; my master is Buckinghamshire born; and he's feared the town
would send him back to his parish, if he went to th' board; so we've
just borne on in hope o' better times. But I think they'll never
come in my day," and the poor woman began her weak high-pitched cry
again.
"Here, sup* this drop o' gruel, and then try and get a bit o' sleep.
John and I will watch by your master to-night."
*"And they SOUPE the brothe thereof."--SIR J. MANDEVILLE.
"God's blessing be on you."
She finished the gruel, and fell into a deep sleep. Wilson covered
her with his coat as well as he could, and tried to move lightly,
for fear of disturbing her; but there need have been no such dread,
for her sleep was profound and heavy with exhaustion. Once only she
roused to pull the coat round her little child.
And now Wilson's care, and Barton's to boot, was wanted to restrain
the wild mad agony of the fevered man. He started up, he yelled, he
seemed infuriated by overwhelming anxiety. He cursed and swore,
which surprised Wilson, who knew his piety in health, and who did
not know the unbridled tongue of delirium.
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