"Oh, if I were rich," he sighed, as with a conviction that he was about
the most abused person in the world, he went into the room where Bessie
lay, white, and worn, and motionless almost as the dead, for though the
fever had left her she was very weak, and could only whisper her
welcome, while the great tears rolled down her cheeks.
Neil was awfully afraid of her. There might still be infection in her
breath and infection in the room. He fancied he smelled it, and
involuntarily put his hands to his mouth and nose, as he drew near the
bed. Bessie saw the motion, and interpreted it aright.
"Oh, Neil," she said, with a sob, "you are not afraid of me?"
"No, certainly not; only this fever is a confounded thing when it takes
hold of a great hulking fellow like myself, and just now I am very
tired," he said; then, heartily ashamed of himself as he saw the look of
distress on Bessie's face, he bent and kissed her forehead, and told her
how sorry he was to find her so sick, and that he would not leave her
till she was strong again.
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