But when the summer was ended, and after the damp warm fogs of November were over, and a keen, black frost set in sharply before Christmas—­a frost which had none of the beauty of white lime and clear blue skies, but which hung over the city like a pall, and penetrated to every fireside with an icy breath; when only the strong and the healthy, who were well clothed and well fed, could meet it bravely, while the delicate, and sickly, and poverty-stricken, shrank before it, and were chilled through and through, then Dolly drooped and failed altogether.  Even old Oliver’s dull ears began to hear a little cough, which seemed to echo from some grave not very far away; and when he drew his little love between his knees, and put on his spectacles to gaze into her face, the dearest face in all the world to him, even his eyes saw something of its wanness, and the hollow lines which had come upon it since the summer had passed away.  The old man felt troubled about her, yet he scarcely knew what to do.  He bought sweetmeats to soothe her cough, and thought sometimes that he must ask somebody or other about a doctor for her; but his treacherous memory always let the thought slip out of his mind.  He intended to take counsel with his sister when she came to see him; but aunt Charlotte was herself very ill with an attack of rheumatism, and could not get up to old Oliver’s house.

CHAPTER XVII.

A very dark shadow.

The Christmas week passed by, and the new year came in, cold and bleak, but Tony was well secured against the weather, and liked the frosty air, which made it pleasant to run as fast as he could from place to place as he delivered his parcels.  When boxing day came, which was half-holiday for him, he returned to the house at mid-day, carrying with him three mince-pies, which he had felt himself rich enough to buy in honour of the holiday.  He had for a long time been reckoning upon shutting up shop for the whole afternoon, and upon going out for a long stroll through the streets with old Oliver and Dolly; and now that the hour was positively come he felt very light-hearted and full of spirits, defying the wind which wrestled with him at every turn.  Dolly must be wrapped up well, he said to himself, and old Oliver must put on his drab great coat, with mother o’ pearl buttons, which he had brought up from the country forty years ago, and which was still good for keeping out the cold.  He ran down the alley, and passed through the shop whistling cheerily, and disdaining to lift the flap of the counter, he took a running vault over it, and landed at once inside the open kitchen-door.

But there was old Oliver sitting close to the fire, with Dolly on his knee, and her little head lying upon his breast, while the tears trickled slowly down his furrowed cheeks on to her pretty curls.  Beppo was standing between his legs, licking Dolly’s small hand, which hung languidly by her side.  Her eyelids were closed, and her face was deadly white; but when Tony uttered a great cry of trouble, and fell on his knees before her, she opened her heavy eyes, and stretched out her cold thin hand to stroke his cheeks.  “Dolly’s so very ill, Tony,” she murmured, “poor Dolly’s very ill indeed.”