 to pretend that she is their topic too; and to
retail her at second-hand with the last new word and the last new manner, and
the last new drawl, and the last new polite indifference, and all the rest of
it, all at second-hand but considered equal to new, in inferior systems and to
fainter stars. If there be any man of letters, art, or science among these
little dealers, how noble in him to support the feeble sisters on such majestic
crutches!
    So goes the wintry day outside the Dedlock mansion. How within it?
    Sir Leicester lying in his bed can speak a little, though with difficulty
and indistinctness. He is enjoined to silence and to rest, and they have given
him some opiate to lull his pain; for his old enemy is very hard with him. He is
never asleep, though sometimes he seems to fall into a dull waking doze. He
caused his bedstead to be moved out nearer to the window, when he heard it was
such inclement weather; and his head to be so adjusted, that he could see the
driving snow and sleet. He watches it as it falls, throughout the whole wintry
day.
    Upon the least noise in the house, which is kept hushed, his hand is at the
pencil. The old housekeeper, sitting by him, knows what he would write, and
whispers, »No, he has not come back yet, Sir Leicester. It was late last night
when he went. He has been but a little time gone yet.«
    He withdraws his hand, and falls to looking at the sleet and snow again,
until they seem, by being long looked at, to fall so thick and fast, that he is
obliged to close his eyes for a minute on the giddy whirl of white flakes and
icy blots.
    He began to look at them as soon as it was light. The day is not yet far
spent, when he conceives it to be necessary that her rooms should be prepared
for her. It is very cold and wet. Let there be good fires. Let them know that
she is expected. Please see to it yourself. He writes to this purpose on his
slate, and Mrs. Rouncewell with a heavy heart obeys.
    »For I dread, George,« the old lady says to her son, who waits below to keep
her company when she has a little leisure; »I dread, my dear, that my Lady will
never more set foot within these walls.«
    »That's a bad presentiment, mother.«
    »
