And can any one be surprised that her illness was increased, and her fever arose and her senses wandered all night?  When her mother was ill, Jacquelina could not sleep.  Now she sat by her bedside sponging her hot hands and keeping ice to her head and giving drink to slake her burning thirst and listening, alas! to her sad and rambling talk about their being turned adrift in the world to starve to death, or to perish in the snow—­calling on her daughter to save them both by yielding to her uncle’s will!  And Jacquelina heard and understood, and wept and sighed—­a new experience to the poor girl, who was

“Not used to tears at night
Instead of slumber!”

All through the night she nursed her with unremitting care.  And in the morning, when the fever waned, and the patient was wakeful, though exhausted, she left her only to bring the refreshing cup of tea and plate of toast prepared by her own hands.

But when she brought it to the bedside the pale invalid waved it away.  She felt as if she could not eat.  Fear had clutched her throat and would not relax its hold.

“I want to talk to you, Jacquelina,” she said.

“Eat and drink first, Mimmy, and then you and I will have such another good talk!” said Jacquelina, coaxingly.

“I can’t!  Oh!  I can’t swallow a mouthful, I am choking now!”

“Oh! that is nothing but the hysterics, Mimmy! ‘high strikes,’ as Jenny calls them!  I feel like I should have them myself sometimes!  Come! cheer up, Mimmy!  Your fever is off and your head is cool!  Come, take this consoling cup of tea and bit of toast, and you will feel so much stronger and cheerfuler.”

“Tea!  Oh! everything I eat and drink in this unhappy house is bitter—­the bitter cup and bitter bread of dependence!”

“Put more sugar into it, then, Mimmy, and sweeten it!  Come!  Things are not yet desperate!  Cheer up!”

“What do you mean, my love?  Have you consented to be married to Dr. Grimshaw?”

“No!  St. Mary!  Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Jacquelina, shuddering for the first time.

“Now, why ‘heaven forbid?’ Oh! my child, why are you so perverse?  Why won’t you take him, since your uncle has set his heart upon the match?”

“Oh, mother!”

“I know you are very young to be married—­too young! far too young!  Only sixteen, gracious heaven!  But then you know we have no alternative but that, or starvation; and it is not as if you were to be married to a youth of your own age—­this gentleman is of grave years and character, which makes a great difference.”

“I should think it did.”

“What makes you shiver and shake so, my dear?  Are you cold or nervous?  Poor child, you got no sleep last night.  Do you drink that cup of tea, my dear.  You need it more than I do.”

“No, no.”

“Why, what is the matter with my fairy?”

“Oh, mother, mother, don’t take sides against me! don’t! or you will drive me to my ruin.  Who will take a child’s part, if her mother don’t?  I love you best of all the world, mother.  Do not takes sides against me! take my part! help me to be true! to be true!”