All
the glory of the morning was forgotten. Instead of three happy,
exalted creatures, we were three dejected, shivering mortals, half
poisoned with foul air and the smell of spirits. We crawled up to
London Bridge at the slowest pace, and, finally, the railway company
discharged us on the platform at ten minutes past eleven. Not a
place in any omnibus could be secured, and we therefore walked for a
mile or so till I saw a cab, which--unheard-of expense for me--I
engaged, and we were landed at our own house exactly at half-past
twelve. The first thing to be done was to get Marie to bed. She was
instantly asleep, and was none the worse for her journey. With Ellen
the case was different. She could not sleep, and the next morning
was feverish. She insisted that it was nothing more than a bad cold,
and would on no account permit me even to give her any medicine. She
would get up presently, and she and Marie could get on well enough
together. But when I reached home on Monday evening, Ellen was
worse, and was still in bed.
I sent at once for the doctor, who would give no opinion for a day or
two, but meanwhile directed that she was to remain where she was, and
take nothing but the lightest food.
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