At this time her reason had quite deserted her, and poor Mabel was
incapable of thought beyond her duty to her aunt, which made her
remove her to a cottage-lodging from the turmoil of the town. No one
distinctly knew, except Mabel, why Sarah Bond was so attached to
the old furniture, and few cared. And yet more than one kind heart
remembered how she had liked the "rubbishing things," and bought in
several, resolved that, if she recovered, and ever had "a place of
her own again," they would offer them for her acceptance. Her illness
was so tedious, that except the humble curate and the good rector,
her inquirers had fallen off--for long sickness wears out friends.
Some would pause as they passed the cottage window, where the
closely-pinned down curtain told of the caution and quiet of sickness;
and then they would wonder how poor Miss Bond was; and if they entered
the little passage to inquire, they could scarcely recognise in the
plainly-dressed, jaded, bent girl, whose eyes knew no change but
from weeping to watching, and watching to weeping, the buoyant and
beautiful heiress whose words were law, and who once revelled in
luxury. The produce of the sale--though everything, of course, went
below its value--left a small surplus, after all debts and expenses
were paid; which the clergyman husbanded judiciously, and gave in
small portions to Mabel. Alfred Bond himself called to offer any
assistance that might be required, which Mabel declined, coldly and at
once.

Patiently and devotedly did she watch beside the couch of her poor
aunt; one day suffering the most acute anxiety if the symptoms became
worse than usual; the next full of hope as they abated. Did I say
that one day after another this was the case? I should have written
it, one hour after another; for truly, at times she fluctuated so