d. But the
night drew on, and came down upon the world; Mrs. Copley went to bed,
at Dolly's earnest suggestion, and was soon fast asleep, fatigue
carrying it over anxiety; and Dolly watched and listened in vain for
sounds of unrest from her father's room. None came; the house was
still; the summer night was deliciously mild; Dolly's eyelids trembled
and closed, and opened, and finally closed again, not to open till the
summer morning was bright and the birds making a loud concert of their
morning song.

Mr. Shubrick, left alone with his patient, sat down and waited;
reviewing meanwhile the room and his surroundings. It was a
moderate-sized, neat, pretty room, with one window looking out upon the
garden. The casement was two-leaved, and one leaf only was part open.
The air consequently was close and hot. And if the room was neat, that
applies only to its natural and normal condition; for if neatness
includes tidiness, it could not be said at present to deserve that
praise. There was an indescribable litter everywhere, such as is
certain to accumulate in a sick-room if the watchers are not imbued
with the spirit of order. Here were one or two spare pillows, on so
many chairs; over the back of another chair hung Mr. Copley's
dressing-gown; at a very unconnected distance from his slippers under a
fourth chair. On still another chair lay a plate and knife with the
remains of an orange; on the mantelpiece, the rest of the chairs, the
tables, and even the floor, stood a miscellaneous assortment of cups,
glasses, saucers, bottles, spoons, and pitchers, large and small,
attached to as varied an assemblage of drinks and medicines. Only one
medicine was to be given from time to time, Mr. Shubrick had been
instructed; and that was marked, and he recognised it; what were all
the rest of this assemblage doing here? Some books lay about also, and
papers, and magazines; here a shawl, there some articles of female
apparel; and a basket of feminine work. The litter was general, and
somewhat disheartening to a lover of order; Mrs. Copley being one of
those people who have nothing of the sort belonging to them, and indeed
during the most of her life accustomed to have somebody else keep order
for her; servants formerly, Dolly of late. Mr. Shubrick sat and looked
at all these things, but made no movement, until by and by his patient
awoke. It was long past sunset now, the room in partial twilight, yet
illumination enough still reflected fr