ken the hand of the sick woman, which had been
extended on the coverlid to greet her. "Dear Miss Robarts," said a
weak voice; "this is very good of you; but it makes me unhappy to
see you here." Lucy lost no time in taking sundry matters into her
own hands, and ascertaining what was most wanted in that wretched
household. For it was wretched enough. Their only servant, a girl of
sixteen, had been taken away by her mother as soon as it became known
that Mrs. Crawley was ill with fever. The poor mother, to give her
her due, had promised to come down morning and evening herself, to do
such work as might be done in an hour or so; but she could not, she
said, leave her child to catch the fever. And now, at the period of
Lucy's visit, no step had been taken to procure a nurse, Mr. Crawley
having resolved to take upon himself the duties of that position.
In his absolute ignorance of all sanatory measures, he had thrown
himself on his knees to pray; and if prayers--true prayers--might
succour his poor wife, of such succour she might be confident. Lucy,
however, thought that other aid also was wanting to her. "If you
can do anything for us," said Mrs. Crawley, "let it be for the poor
children."

"I will have them all moved from this till you are better," said
Lucy, boldly.

"Moved!" said Mr. Crawley, who even now--even in his present
strait--felt a repugnance to the idea that any one should relieve him
of any portion of his burden.

"Yes," said Lucy; "I am sure it will be better that you should lose
them for a week or two, till Mrs. Crawley may be able to leave her
room."

"But where are they to go?" said he, very gloomily. As to this Lucy
was not as yet able to say anything. Indeed when she left Framley
parsonage there had been no time for discussion. She would go back
and talk it all over with Fanny, and find out in what way the
children might be best put out of danger. Why should they not all be
harboured at the parsonage, as soon as assurance could be felt that
they were not tainted with the poison of the fever? An English lady
of the right sort will do all things but one for a sick neighbour;
but for no neighbour will she wittingly admit contagious sickness
within the precincts of her own nursery. Lucy unloaded her jellies
and her febrifuges, Mr. Crawley frowning at her bitterly the while.
It had come to this with him, that food had been brought into his
house, as an act of charity, in his very presence, and in his he