first week in July. The breakfast hour was late
at Blackwater Park— sometimes as late as ten,
never earlier than half-past nine. On the morning
to which I am now referring, Miss Halcombe
(who was usually the first to come down)
did not make her appearance at the table. After
the family had waited a quarter of an hour,
the upper housemaid was sent to see after her,
and came running out of the room, dreadfully
frightened. I met the servant on the stairs,
and went at once to Miss Halcombe to see what
was the matter. The poor lady was incapable of
telling me. She was walking about her room
with a pen in her hand, quite light-headed, in a
state of burning fever.

Lady Glyde (being no longer in Sir Percival's
service, I may, without impropriety, mention my
former mistress by her name, instead of calling
her My Lady) was the first to come in, from her
own bedroom. She was so dreadfully alarmed
and distressed, that she was quite useless. The
Count Fosco, and his lady, who came up-stairs
immediately afterwards, were both most
serviceable and kind. Her ladyship assisted me
to get Miss Halcombe to her bed. His lordship
the Count, remained in the sitting-room,
and, having sent for my medicine-chest, made
a mixture for Miss Halcombe, and a cooling
lotion to be applied to her head, so as to lose
no time before the doctor came. We applied
the lotion; but we could not get her to take
the mixture. Sir Percival undertook to send
for the doctor. He despatched a groom, on
horseback, for the nearest medical man, Mr.
Dawson, of Oak Lodge.

Mr. Dawson arrived in less than an hour's
time. He was a respectable elderly man, well
known, all round the country; and we were
much alarmed when we found that he considered
the case to be a very serious one. His
lordship the Count, affably entered into conversation
with Mr. Dawson, and gave his opinions
with a judicious freedom. Mr. Dawson, not
over-courteously, inquired if his lordship's advice
was the advice of a doctor; and being informed
that it was the advice of one who had studied
medicine, unprofessionally, replied that he was
not accustomed to consult with amateur-physicians.
The Count, with truly Christian meekness
of temper, smiled, and left the room. Before
he went out, he told me that he might be
found, in case he was wanted in the course of
the day, at the boat-house on the banks of the
lake. Why he should have gone there, I cannot
say. But he did go; remaining away the whole
day till seven o'clock, which was dinner-time.
Perhaps, he wished to set the example of keeping
the house as quiet as possible. It was
entirely in his character to do so. He was a most
considerate nobleman.

Miss Halcombe passed a very bad night; the
fever coming and going, and getting worse
towards the morning, instead of better. No nurse
fit to wait on her being to be found in the
neighbourhood, her ladyship the Countess, and
myself, undertook the duty, relieving each other.
Lady Glyde, most unwisely, insisted on sitting
up with us. She was much too nervous and too
delicate in health to bear the anxiety of Miss
Halcombe's illness calmly. She only did herself
harm, without being of the least real
assistance. A more gentle and affectionate lady
never lived; but she cried, and she was frightened
— two weaknesses which made her entirely
unfit to be present in a sick-room.

Sir Percival and the Count came in the
morning to make their inquiries. Sir Percival (from
distress, I presume, at his lady's affliction, and
at Miss Halcombe's illness) appeared much
confused and unsettled in his mind. His lordship
testified, on the contrary, a becoming composure
and interest. He had his straw hat in one
hand, and his book in the other; and he
mentioned to Sir Percival, in my hearing, that he
would go out again, and study at the lake.
"Let us keep the house quiet," he said. "Let
us not smoke in-doors, my friend, now Miss
Halcombe is ill. You go your way, and I will go
mine. When I study, I like to be alone. Good
morning, Mrs. Michelson."

Sir Percival was not civil enough— perhaps, I
ought, in justice to say, not composed enough —
to take leave of me with the same polite attention.
The only person in the house, indeed, who
treated me, at that time or at any other, on the
footing of a lady in distressed circumstances,
was the Count. He had the manners of a true
nobleman; he was considerate towards every one.
Even the young person (Fanny, by name) who
attended on Lady Glyde, was not beneath his notice.
When she was sent away by Sir Percival, his lordship
(showing me his sweet little birds at the
time) was most kindly anxious to know what had
become of her, where she was to go the day she
left Blackwater Park, and so on. It is in such
little delicate attentions that the advantages of
aristocratic birth always show themselves. I make
no apology for introducing these particulars;
they are brought forward in justice to his lordship,
whose character, I have reason to know, is
viewed rather harshly in certain quarters. A
nobleman who can respect a lady in distressed
circumstances, and can take a fatherly interest
in the fortunes of an humble servant girl, shows
principles and feelings of too high an order to be
lightly called in question. I advance no opinions
— I offer facts only. My endeavour through
life is to judge not, that I be not judged. One
of my beloved husband's finest sermons was on
that text. I read it constantly— in my own copy
of the edition printed by subscription, in the
first days of my widowhood— and, at every fresh
perusal, I derive an increase of spiritual benefit
and edification.

There was no improvement in Miss Halcombe;
and the second night was even worse than the
first. Mr. Dawson was constant in his attendance.
The practical duties of nursing were still
divided between the Countess and myself; Lady
Glyde persisting in sitting up with us, though
we both entreated her to take some rest. "My
place is by Marian's bedside," was her only
answer. "Whether I am ill, or well, nothing will
induce me to lose sight of her."