The portantini men walked too fast for him,
and he was tired and heated. Then, while I paid my visit, he played by
the river with a child of the house, and returned with me in the dusk.
He complained of being tired during the return, and I took him up into
my portantina for ten minutes. He was over-tired, however, over-heated,
over-chilled, and the next day had fever and complained of his head. We
did not think much of it; and the morning after he seemed so recovered
that we took him with us to dine in the mountains with some American
friends (the Eckleys--did you hear of them in Rome?)--twenty miles in
the carriage, and ten miles on donkey-back. He was in high spirits, and
came home at night singing at the top of his voice--probably to keep off
the creeping sense of illness, for he has confessed since that he felt
unwell even then. The next day the fever set in. The medical man doubted
whether it was measles, scarlatina, or what; but soon the symptoms took
the decisive aspect. He has been in bed, strictly confined to bed, since
last Sunday-week night--strictly confined, except for one four hours,
after which exertion he had a relapse. It is the same fever as Mr.
Lytton's, only not as severe, I thank God; the attacks coming on at
nights chiefly, and terrifying us, as you may suppose. The child's
sweetness and goodness, too, his patience and gentleness, have been very
trying. He said to me, 'You pet! don't be unhappy for _me_. Think it's a
poor little boy in the street, and be just only a little sorry, and not
unhappy at all.' Well, we may thank God that the bad time seems passed.
He is still in bed, but it is a matter of precaution chiefly. The fever
is quite in abeyance--has been for two days, and we have all to be
grateful for two most tranquil nights. He amuses himself in putting maps
together, and cutting out paper, and packing up his desk to _go to
Florence_, which is the _idee fixe_ just now. In fact when he can be
moved we shall not wait here a day, for the rains have set in, and the
dry elastic air of Florence will be excellent for him. The medical man
(an Italian) promises us almost that we may be able to go in a week
from this time; but we won't hurry, we will run no risks. For some days
he has been allowed no other sort of nourishment but ten
dessert-spoonfuls of thin broth twice a day--literally nothing; not a
morsel of bread, not a drop of tea, nothing. Even now the only change
is, a few more spoonfuls of th