Maurice paced up and down the room, his feet shod in noiseless slippers;
or he gazed out on that melancholy spectacle until he thought of
suicide; or again he would go into the adjoining apartment, to see how
his friend was getting on or whether he wanted anything. But as the day
wore on, matters became a little brisker; for there were numerous
callers, and some of them waited to have a special message sent down to
them; while others, knowing Mangan, and learning that he was in charge
of the invalid, came up to have a word with himself. Baskets of flowers
began to arrive, too; and these, of course, must have come from private
conservatories. No one was allowed to enter the sick-room; but Maurice
carried thither the news of all this kindly remembrance and sympathy, as
something that might be grateful to his patient.
"You've got a tremendous number of friends, Linn, and no mistake," he
said. "Many a great statesman or poet might envy you."
"I suppose it is in the papers?" Lionel asked, without raising his head.
"In one or two of the late editions last evening, and in most of
to-day's papers; but to-morrow it will be all over the country.
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