s done. But then there came
the fall of a quicker step across the room, and the door was opened,
and Maryanne, descending the four stairs which led to his own closet,
was with him in an instant. "George," she said, forgetting all
propriety of demeanour, "father's in a fit!"

It is not necessary that the scene which followed should be described
with minuteness in these pages. Robinson, of course, went up to Mr.
Brown's room, and a doctor was soon there in attendance upon the sick
man. He had been struck by paralysis, and thus for a time had been
put beyond the reach of his daughters' anger. Sarah Jane was very
soon there, but the wretched state in which the old man was lying
quieted even her tongue. She did not dare to carry on the combat as
she looked on the contorted features and motionless limbs of the poor
wretch as he lay on his bed. On her mind came the conviction that
this was partly her work, and that if she now spoke above her breath,
those around her would accuse her of her cruelty. So she slunk about
into corners, whispering now and again with her husband, and quickly
took herself off, leaving the task of nursing the old man to the
higher courage of her sister.

And Maryanne's courage sufficed for the work. Now that she had a task
before her she did it;--as she would have done her household tasks
had she become the wife of Brisket or of Robinson. To the former
she would have been a good wife, for he would have required no
softness. She would have been true to him, tending him and his
children;--scolding them from morning to night, and laying not
unfrequently a rough hand upon them. But for this Brisket would not
have cared. He would have been satisfied, and all would have been
well. It is a thousand pities that, in that matter, Brisket could not
have seen his way.

And now that her woman's services were really needed, she gave them
to her father readily. It cannot be said that she was a cheerful
nurse. Had he been in a state in which cheerfulness would have
relieved him, her words would have again been sharp and pointed. She
was silent and sullen, thinking always of the bad days that were
coming to her. But, nevertheless, she was attentive to him,--and
during the time of his terrible necessity even good to him. It is so
natural to women to be so, that I think even Regan would have nursed
Lear had Lear's body become impotent instead of his mind. There she
sat close to his bed, and there from time to time Ro