By and bye, he began to
talk again, inquiring how long he had been there.
'Three weeks to-morrow,' replied the servant.
'Three what?' said Dick.
'Weeks,' returned the Marchioness emphatically; 'three long, slow
weeks.'
The bare thought of having been in such extremity, caused Richard
to fall into another silence, and to lie flat down again, at his
full length. The Marchioness, having arranged the bed-clothes more
comfortably, and felt that his hands and forehead were quite cool--
a discovery that filled her with delight--cried a little more,
and then applied herself to getting tea ready, and making some thin
dry toast.
While she was thus engaged, Mr Swiveller looked on with a grateful
heart, very much astonished to see how thoroughly at home she made
herself, and attributing this attention, in its origin, to Sally
Brass, whom, in his own mind, he could not thank enough. When the
Marchioness had finished her toasting, she spread a clean cloth on
a tray, and brought him some crisp slices and a great basin of weak
tea, with which (she said) the doctor had left word he might
refresh himself when he awoke.
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