The
Dorkings go on Tuesday. Clara is really a dear little artless creature;
one that you will like, Maria--and as for Ethel, I really think she is an
angel. To see her nursing her poor father is the most beautiful sight;
night after night she has sate up with him. I know where she would like
to be, the dear child. And if Frank falls ill again, Maria, he won't need
a mother or useless old grandmother to nurse him. I have got some pretty
messages to deliver from her; but they are for your private ears, my
lord; not even mammas and brothers may hear them."
"Do not go, mother! Pray stay, George!" cried the sick man (and again
Lord Steyne's sister looked uncommonly like that lamented marquis). "My
cousin is a noble young creature," he went on. "She has admirable good
qualities, which I appreciate with all my heart; and her beauty, you know
how I admire it. I have thought of her a great deal as I was lying on the
bed yonder" (the family look was not so visible in Lady Kew's face),
"and--and--I wrote to her this very morning; she will have the letter by
this time, probably.
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