The Bride Elect: or, The Doom of the Double Roses — page 151: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

142 THE BRIDE ELECT. ‘© We'll devote our present energies to bringing back poor Alexander to health,” said Mrs. Ellathorne, ‘‘ and we'll love each other all the better that the circle is so small.” So the shorn little circle dispersed again, and Florice went back to her self-constituted task as sick-nurse, to soothe and animate, by every judicious act, the now restless and feverish invalid whose alternations of excitement and de- pression were something terrible to behold. Arduous as were little Florice’s duties, she clung to them with a pertinacity which never flagged, and which perhaps saved her from becoming hopelessly melancholy. Truly her devotion to Alexander was the unction which prevented her sick heart from bleeding itself to death, and the bitterest trial which could befall her in those silent days was the frequent determination of Jessie Buccleugh to re- lieve her of her patient for a day or two, and as she gene- rally succeeded in carrying her point, poor little Florice would make a day of mourning of it, weeping in her lover’s tender arms, or grieving sadly on her little bed, where she strove to catch the balm of slumber. Now, it fell on a Sunday; nine days after Alexander. had been taken ill, and when thecrisis of his malady was at hand, that Miss Buccleugh announced her intention of tak- ing her turn at the side of her cousin, and nothing would satisfy her but that Florice must go to church with the captain. ‘* Not a word, Florice,” said Jessie, who could be very willful at times. ‘‘ You are bleached with confinement, and have kept vigil for two nights. Get away into the sunshine and I’ll take care of my cousin, and Mrs. Ellathorne shall sit with me to watch for any change if you are afraid of me. She shall go with you, sha’n’t she, captain?” Anthony being thus put up toit, pleaded hard, and Flo- rice, with a tender look for him, but a heart that was like to break, slowly went up stairs to prepare. With what listless fingers she braided her brown hair, and _ banded it, plainly under her simple white bonnet; absently she directed the stupid but good-natured waiting-maid to assist her toilet. | 7 It is to be observed here that it was no longer Jean Mal- colm, but a strong country lass somewhere from Elgin, who now officiated as Miss Calvert’s maid. Malcolm had taken . her departure about four weeks ago to enjoy quite a com- Gomichooks (E(o)