The boy had been everything in the world to her, and now he was going elsewhere.
The house was a very mournful place just then, and the servants moved noiselessly about as though in the presence of some strange mystery.
The only person in it who seemed really happy was Austin himself.

A great London surgeon came to see him once, and then there was talk of hiring a trained nurse.

But Austin combatted this project with all the vigour at his command, protesting that trained nurses always scented themselves with chloroform and put him in mind of a hospital; he really could not have one in the room.

Some assistance, however, was necessary, for the disease was making such rapid progress that he could no longer turn himself in bed; and Austin, recognising the fact, insisted that Lubin and no other should tend him.

So Lubin, tearfully overjoyed at the distinction, exchanged the garden for the sick-chamber, into which, as Austin said, he seemed to bring the very scent of grass and flowers; and there he passed his time, day after day, raising the helpless boy in his strong arms, shifting his position, anticipating his slightest wish, and even sleeping in a low truckle-bed in a corner of the room at night.
Sometimes Austin would lie, silent and motionless, for hours, with a perfectly calm and happy look upon his face.