To-morrow I am away to Bristol, to set sail for America." He wrung my hands with a long, loud, half-mad laugh; and then dropped heavily on a chair.
A few hours after, he was lying on my bed, struck down by the first real sickness he had ever known.

It was apparently a low agueish fever, which had been much about Norton Bury since the famine of last year.

At least, so Jael said; and she was a wise doctoress, and had cured many.

He would have no one else to attend him--seemed terrified at the mere mention of Dr.Jessop.

I opposed him not at first, for well I knew, whatever the proximate cause of his sickness might be, its root was in that mental pang which no doctors could cure.