Мидлмарч

           Butitwasexcusableinhim,thatheshouldforgetpartofanorder,inhispresentweariedcondition.Hewalkedup-stairs,candleinhand,notknowingwhetherheshouldstraightwayenterhisownroomandgotobed,orturntothepatient’sroomandrectifyhisomission.Hepausedinthepassage,withhisfaceturnedtowardsRaffles’sroom,andhecouldhearhimmoaningandmurmuring.Hewasnotasleep,then.WhocouldknowthatLydgate’sprescriptionwouldnotbebetterdisobeyedthanfollowed,sincetherewasstillnosleep?

           Heturnedintohisownroom.Beforehehadquiteundressed,Mrs.Abelrappedatthedoor;heopeneditaninch,sothathecouldhearherspeaklow.

           "Ifyouplease,sir,shouldIhavenobrandynornothingtogivethepoorcreetur?Hefeelssinkingaway,andnothingelsewillheswaller—andbutlittlestrengthinit,ifhedid—onlytheopium.Andhesaysmoreandmorehe’ssinkingdownthroughtheearth."

           Tohersurprise,Mr.Bulstrodedidnotanswer.Astrugglewasgoingonwithinhim.

           "Ithinkhemustdieforwanto’support,ifhegoesoninthatway.WhenInursedmypoormaster,Mr.Robisson,Ihadtogivehimport-wineandbrandyconstant,andabigglassatatime,"addedMrs.Abel,withatouchofremonstranceinhertone.

           ButagainMr.Bulstrodedidnotanswerimmediately,andshecontinued,"It’snotatimetosparewhenpeopleareatdeath’sdoor,norwouldyouwishit,sir,I’msure.