After we had been in Ramsgate a few days I felt so poorly that I was obliged to keep my bed. My aunt called in a doctor, who said that I was ‘out.’ He sent me physic, which I did not take, and told me to keep my bed till I felt equal to rising. My bed was so situated that, when my blind was up, I saw the ocean. If the day was clear, I could faintly spy afar upon the horizon the delicate golden thread of the Goodwin Sands. I’d watch the ships slowly floating past this side of the thin line like little clouds of powder-smoke gliding ball-shaped from the mouths of cannon, and listen to the faint thunder of the surf combing the beach under the chalk cliffs, and find a meaning for the voice of the wind as it shrilled with a hissing as of steam past the casement, or sang in the interstices or muttered in the chimney. The sight of the sea brought Tom very close to me, closer than ever he could lie upon my heart at home, amid streets and the rattle of coaches and carts. One morning, whilst I was confined to my bed, my aunt did not come to my room as was her custom after breakfast. I inquired of the servant how she was, and was told that she was pretty well, but that she had passed an uneasy night. I asked if there were any letters, for I was always expecting to hear from Tom under cover from my maid, whom I had left at home; the girl replied that Mrs. Johnstone had received one letter, and that there was none for me. It was not until after twelve that my aunt came to see me. She looked ill, and there was a peculiar expression of distress in her face. She came to the foot of my bed and gazed at me earnestly, and asked me how I felt. I said that I felt better, and hoped to find strength to rise for a few hours towards evening. ‘You are not looking well, aunt.’ ‘I am not feeling well, Marian.’ ‘I hope you have not received bad news from home?’ ‘I have had a broken night,’ said she, turning away and going to the window, and speaking with her back upon me. ‘Have you news of Will?’ ‘No! No!’ she cried quickly, still with her back turned. ‘There is no news of Will. I believe you are better, my dear.’ And then she asked me what I could fancy for dinner, and so changed the subject with a readiness which quieted the misgiving her looks had excited.