and slipped to my feet at the bed-side. It was Mr. Murdstone’s hand, and he kept it on my arm as he said:

‘What’s this?

Clara, my love, have you forgotten? — Firmness, my dear!’

‘I am very sorry, Edward,’ said my mother. ‘I meant to be very good, but I am so uncomfortable.’

‘Indeed!’ he answered. ‘That’s a bad hearing, so soon, Clara.’

‘I say it’s very hard I should be made so now,’ returned my mother, pouting; ‘and it is — very hard — isn’t it?’

He drew her to him, whispered in her ear, and kissed her.