Fuller's absence of regret for a
quarter of a century's supineness, and this lad's repentance for
twelve months' idleness. That his follies had been guileless in
themselves might be the very cause that his spirit had such power of
repentance. His admiration of Lady Tyrrell had been burnt out, and
had been fancy, not heart, and no word of it passed his lips, far
less of the mirth with the Strangeways. Habit sometimes brought the
phrases of the cricket-field, but these generally ended in a shudder
of self-recollection and prayer.
The delirium only came with the accesses of fever, and when
sensible, he was very quiet and patient, but always as one weighed
down by sense of failure in a trust. He never seemed to entertain a
hope of surviving. He had watched too many cases not to be aware
that his symptoms were those that had been almost uniformly fatal,
and he noted them as a matter of course. Dr. Easterby came to see
him, and was greatly touched; Herbert was responsive, but it was not
the ordinary form of comfort that he needed, for his sorrow was
neither terror nor despair.
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