The conversation at first was, of course, confined to the lady's health.
She thought that she was, perhaps, getting better, though, as the doctor
had told her, the reassuring symptoms might probably prove only too
fallacious. She could eat nothing--literally nothing. A few grapes out of
the hot-house had supported her for the last week. This statement was
foolish on Lizzie's part, as Mr. Emilius was a man of an inquiring nature,
and there was not a grape in the garden. Her only delight was in reading
and in her child's society. Sometimes she thought that she would pass away
with the boy in her arms and her favourite volume of Shelley in her hand.
Mr. Emilius expressed a hope that she would not pass away yet, for ever so
many years.
"Oh, my friend," said Lizzie, "what is life, that one should desire it?"
Mr. Emilius of course reminded her that, though her life might be nothing
to herself, it was very much indeed to those who loved her. "Yes--to my
boy," said Lizzie. Mr. Emilius informed her, with confidence, that it was
not only her boy that loved her. There were others--or, at any rate, one
other. She might be sure of one faithful heart, if she cared for that.
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