CHAPTER 7
onscious t as so grasp he surprise checked her sobs.
`I feel ill - faintishe head.
er, and tottered into purple fluso paleness, and his hand was cold.
` ter send for tor? said Mrs tulliver.
o be too faint and suffering to presently, o fetcor, or? No - No doctor. Its my s all. o bed.
Sad ending to t ter times! But mingled seed must bear a mingled crop.
In er om came o congratulate `ter, not some excusable pride t Mr toms good-luck; and tom ter as a finiso talk noom could only spend tation of t consequences t must follobreak of e. After told, tom sat in silence: spirit or inclination to tell er anyt to ask it. Apparently ted toget t a sorro. tom ed by t t must al in co come. Not one of t any particular alarm about Mr tullivers oms did not recall tack, and it seemed only a necessary consequence t passion and effort of strengter many ement, s would probably cure him.
tom, tired out by ive day, fell asleep soon, and slept soundly; it seemed to come to bed, wo see anding by of early morning.
`My boy, you must get up te: Ive sent for tor, and your fats you and Maggie to come to him.
`Is her?
` say its ;Bessy, fetcell em to make e.quot;
Maggie and tom tily in t, and reac at t. c ulliver stood at t of tened and trembling, looking urbed rest. Maggie , but oom, to her.
`tom, my lad, its come upon me, as I s get up again... too many for me, my lad, but youve done o make t even. Shake hands