"
"Some one else will care for him," I said.
"Indeed, I wouldn't mind who he married if she was good and fond of him
and would keep him at home. He won't leave me now, not for a bit--till
I'm happier; but he says it's best he should go, that he has a reason
for going. Ah, well; he'll settle down some time, when he's got over
this."
It might have been three weeks later when we heard that Richard Dawson
had taken the small-pox and was lying ill at the Cottage. The illness
was complicated, it was feared, by his having driven in the night to the
small-pox hospital and asked to be taken in there, but there had been a
recrudescence of the plague, and the place was crowded to the doors. Dr.
Molyneux was working there like ten men, and it was his idea to have
Richard Dawson taken to the Cottage, which was much nearer than
Damerstown. We heard that the night journey, which was like to cost him
his life, had been undertaken when he found the illness coming on, to
prevent as much as might be the danger of infection to the large
household at Damerstown. He was very ill indeed, and the doctors hardly
thought he could live.
I was so sorry for him that I felt that if he died even the happiness of
my meeting with my lover would be clouded over.
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