"I am dexterous in nothing, my dear. You will often find me awkward, but never negligent."
Negligent, indeed, she was not. From that hour, Fanny and Eliza became cyphers in the sick-room: Mrs. Pryor made it her domain: she performed all its duties; she lived in it day and night. The patient remonstrated,—faintly, however, from the first, and not at all ere long: loneliness and gloom were now banished from her bedside: protection and solace sat there instead. She and her nurse coalesced in wondrous union. Caroline was usually pained to require or receive much attendance: Mrs. Pryor, under ordinary circumstances, had neither the habit nor the art of performing little offices of service; but all now passed with such ease—so naturally, that the patient was as willing to be cherished as the nurse was bent on cherishing: no sign of weariness in the latter ever reminded the former that she ought to be anxious. There was, in fact, no very hard duty to perform; but a hireling might have found it hard.
With all this care, it seemed strange the sick girl did not get well; yet such was the case: she wasted like any snow-wreath in thaw; she faded like any flower in drought. Miss Keeldar, on whose thoughts danger or death seldom intruded, had at first entertained no fears at all for her friend; but seeing her change and sink from time to time when she paid her visits, alarm clutched her heart. She went to Mr. Helstone and expressed herself with so much
