"Well, well, my little girl; it won't do to run any risks nowadays,
remember! I shall make you drink a big cup of hot water, with a little
tea and sugar in it, and go to bed early, with three or four extra
blankets. Meanwhile, come! let's go and see whether Cornelia has got
supper ready yet." So saying, the old gentleman gained his feet,
offering his arm with a bow, took up the lamp with his other hand, and
off they went, leaving Shakespeare's plaster bust placidly to face the
darkness alone, as he had often done before.
The next morning the storm was over, and the sun came dazzling over the
spotless fields, but Sophie kept her bed, with bright, restless eyes,
and hot checks. The professor dreaded a return of the typhoid pneumonia,
and paced his study incessantly, in a voiceless fever of anxiety;
physically exhausting himself the better to affect quiet and unconcern
when in her room. He mentioned his fears to no one--not even to
Cornelia; besides, if care were taken, she might recover yet, without
fatal, or even serious danger. To herself, therefore, and to all who
inquired, he spoke of her attack as merely a cold, which must be nursed
for prudence' sake. Meanwhile, no signs of Bressant. Sophie said not a
word, but Cornelia showed uneasiness, and kept making suggestive remarks
to her father, and hazarding unsatisfactory explanations of his absence.
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