‘will be good to all of us. Dear Mrs. Steerforth, we must all trust to that, in our heaviest misfortunes.’
The earnestness of my manner, and the tears in my eyes, alarmed her. The whole course of her thoughts appeared to stop, and change.
I tried to command my voice in gently saying his name, but it trembled.
She repeated it to herself, two or three times, in a low tone. Then, addressing me, she said, with enforced calmness:
‘My son is ill.’
‘Very ill.’
‘You have seen him?’
‘I have.’
‘Are you reconciled?’