CHAPTER X.
CONVALESCENCE--MATRIMONIAL INTENTIONS--THE JOURNEY TO OAKFORD--OUR WELCOME On the day when I first left my sick room, and was moved to a sofa in what had been my poor mother's boudoir, my father put fifty pounds into Nurse Bundle's hand, and sent another fifty to Mr.Andrewes for some communion vessels for the church, on which the rector had set his heart.

They were both thank-offerings.
"I owe my son's recovery to GOD, and to you, Mrs.Bundle," said my father, with a certain elaborateness of speech to which he was given on important occasions.

"No money could purchase such care as you bestowed on him, and no money can reward it; but it will be doing me a farther favour to allow me to think that, should sickness ever overtake yourself when we are no longer together, this little sum, laid by, may come in useful, and afford you a few comforts." That first evening of my convalescence we were quite jubilant; but afterwards there were many weary days of weakness, irritability, and _ennui_ on my part, and anxiety and disappointment on my father's.
Rubens was a great comfort at this period.

For his winning ways formed an interest, and served a little to vary the monotony of the hours when I was too weak to bear any definite amusement or occupation.

It must have been about this time that a long cogitation with myself led to the following conversations with Nurse Bundle and my father:-- "How old are you, Nurse ?" I inquired, one forenoon, when she had neatly arranged the tray containing my chop, wine, etc., by my chair.
"Five-and-fifty, love, come September," said Nurse Bundle.
"Do people ever marry when they are five-and-fifty, papa ?" I asked that evening, as I lay languid and weary on the sofa.
"Yes, my dear boy, sometimes.