The doctor from
Coniston said it was the typhus-fever, and warned Susan of its
infectious character, and shook his head over his patient. There
were no near friends to come and share her anxiety; only good, kind
old Peggy, who was faithfulness itself, and one or two labourers'
wives, who would fain have helped her, had not their hands been tied
by their responsibility to their own families. But, somehow, Susan
neither feared nor flagged. As for fear, indeed, she had no time to
give way to it, for every energy of both body and mind was required.
Besides, the young have had too little experience of the danger of
infection to dread it much. She did indeed wish, from time to time,
that Michael had been at home to have taken Willie over to his
father's at High Beck; but then, again, the lad was docile and useful
to her, and his fecklessness in many things might make him harshly
treated by strangers; so, perhaps, it was as well that Michael was
away at Appleby fair, or even beyond that--gone into Yorkshire after
horses.
Her father grew worse; and the doctor insisted on sending over a
nurse from Coniston. Not a professed nurse--Coniston could not have
supported such a one; but a widow who was ready to go where the
doctor sent her for the sake of the payment.
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