His age seemed to come upon him all at once; and whereas at sixty-
five he had been like a man ten years younger, he suddenly became
like one ten years older; and though he never was actually ill, he
failed from month to month.

He could not bear the sight or sound of the poor baby. Poor Adela
had scarcely lived to hear it was a boy, and all she had said about
it was, "Ursula, you'll be his mother." And, oh! I have tried. If
love would do it, I think he could not be more even to dear Adela!

What a frail little life it was! What nights and days we had with
him; doctors saying that skill could not do it, but care might; and
nurses knowing how to be more effective than I could be; yet while I
durst not touch him I could not bear not to see him. And I do think
I was the first person he began to know.

Meantime, there was a great difference in Torwood. He had been very
much of a big boy hitherto. No one but myself could have guessed
that he cared for much besides a lazy kind of enjoyment of all the
best and nicest things in this world. He did what he was told, but
in an uninterested sort of way, just as if politics and county
business, and work at the estate, were just as much tasks thrust on
him as Virgil and Homer had been; and put his spirit into sporting,
&c.

But when he was allowed to think hopefully of Emily, it seemed to
make a man of him, and he took up all that he had to do, as if it
really concerned him, and was not only a burden laid on him by his
father.