"Nay," said Rose, "I only thought it, seeing him so thin. I dare say it's natural to children to be thin. She is a most excellent nurse, Charlotte; a Mrs. Brayford. I saw her several times in the spring, when she was nursing Adeline de Castella." "What was her complaint?" "They feared she was going into a decline. Mrs. Brayford nursed her into perfect health, and she is as strong and well now as I am. I should think she would be the very nurse to suit you, and she is a pleasant sort of woman." "Where can I find her?" "Well, I don't know," said Rose. "It can readily be ascertained, though. The concierge at Signor de Castella's is sure to know her address. Of course, she may not be at liberty just now, Charlotte; neither may she be inclined to take a place that involves travelling." "Is she one of those monthly nurses?" asked Mrs. St. John. "I don't like them." "No; I believe not. I will get you her address, Charlotte, and you can send to her or not, as you please. How this child starts!" "He would lie more comfortably on a bed," interposed Mrs. Darling, lifting him gently from Rose's knee. "I'll take him to Prance." It was what she had been longing to do--to get to Prance. For ten minutes' conversation with the serving-woman, Mrs. Darling would have given an earldom. The servant met her at the chamber-door, and the child was laid on his bed without awaking. "Prance, he is surely dying," breathed Mrs. Darling, as they stood over him. Prance glanced round, making sure there were no other listeners. "He is as surely dying, ma'am, as that his father died before him; and of the same complaint--wasting away. A month or two longer, and then--the end." "Your mistress does not seem to see it. _Does_ she see it, do you think?" "I think not. I think she really believes that he will get well." "Why does she go about from place to place in this restless manner?" The woman stooped to brush a fly from George's forehead, and she answered with her head and eyes bent down. "She says it is for the benefit of the child: that he gets more languid and fretful when we stay quietly in a place than when we are moving about. But in her anxiety, she a little overdoes it: there's a medium in all things. In some of the towns she has not liked the doctors, and then she has gone away immediately." "I wish she would come back to Alnwick," lamented Mrs. Darling. "Pym knows the constitution of the St. Johns. No one could treat the child so well as he." "I wish she would!" heartily acquiesced Prance. "I wish you could persuade her----" Prance stopped, and hastily busied herself straightening George's petticoats. Mrs. St. John had entered the room. But there was no persuading her to Alnwick--or to put a stop to this incessant travelling. Only a few days and she had quitted Belport again, taking her retinue with her, amidst whom was the nurse, Mrs. Brayford.