e by good Miss Slater
for a little rest. He had also seen poor Mr. Fuller, who was too
weak and wretched to say anything more than 'God help us, Charnock:
you will do what you can;' and when Julius asked for his sanction to
sending for Sisters, he answered, "Anything, anything."

The few members who had come to the committee were reduced to the
same despairing consent, and Julius was allowed to despatch a
telegram to St. Faith's, which had sent Sisters in the emergency at
St. Awdry's. He likewise brought an offer, suggested by Raymond, of
a great old tithe barn, his own property, but always rented by Mrs.
Poynsett, in a solitary field, where the uninfected children might
be placed under good care, and the houses in Water Lane thus
relieved. As to a fever hospital, Raymond had sent his advice to
use the new town-hall itself. A word from him went a great way just
then with the Town Council, and the doctors were delighted with the
proposal.

Funds and contributions of bedding, clothing, food and wine were
coming in, but hands were the difficulty. The adaptations of the
town-hall and the bringing in of beds were done by one strong
carpenter and Mrs. Duncombe's man Alexander, whom she had brought
with her, and who proved an excellent orderly; and the few who would
consent, or did not resist occupying the beds there, were carried in
by Herbert Bowater and a strapping young doctor who had come down
for this fever pasture. There Mrs. Duncombe and Miss Slater
received them. No other volunteer had come to light willing to
plunge into this perilous and disgusting abyss of misery; and among
the afflicted families the power of nursing was indeed small.

However, the healthy children were carried away without much
resistance, and established in the great barn under a trustworthy
widow; and before night, two effective-looking Sisters were in
charge at the hospital.

Still, however, no telegram, no letter, came from Eleonora Vivian.
Mr. M'Vie had found a nurse for Lady Tyrrell, but old Sir Harry rode
in to meet every delivery of the post, and was half distracted at
finding nothing from her; and Frank's murmurs of her name were most
piteous to those who feared that, if he were ever clearly conscious
again, it would only be to know how heavy had been the meed of his
folly.

CHAPTER XXVIII
The Retreat

What dost thou here, frail wanderer from thy task?--Christian
Year

Eleonora Vivian was trying to fix her att