n the light of my candle his face looked red and savage.

_"You!"_ he said, in a queer voice. _"How many of you are there, in
God's name?"_

At that I felt the ground give under me; but I said to myself that he
had been drinking, and answered as steadily as I could: "May I go in,
sir? Mrs. Brympton has rung for me."

"You may all go in, for what I care," says he, and, pushing by me,
walked down the hall to his own bedroom. I looked after him as he went,
and to my surprise I saw that he walked as straight as a sober man.

I found my mistress lying very weak and still, but she forced a smile
when she saw me, and signed to me to pour out some drops for her. After
that she lay without speaking, her breath coming quick, and her eyes
closed. Suddenly she groped out with her hand, and "_Emma_," says she,
faintly.

"It's Hartley, madam," I said. "Do you want anything?"

She opened her eyes wide and gave me a startled look.

"I was dreaming," she said. "You may go, now, Hartley, and thank you
kindly. I'm quite well again, you see." And she turned her face away
from me.

III

THERE was no more sleep for me that night, and I was thankful when
daylight came.

Soon afterward, Agnes called me to Mrs. Brympton. I was afraid she was
ill again, for she seldom sent for me before nine, but I found her
sitting up in bed, pale and drawn-looking, but quite herself.

"Hartley," says she quickly, "will you put on your things at once and
go down to the village for me? I want this prescription made up--" here
she hesitated a minute and blushed--"and I should like you to be back
again before Mr. Brympton is up."

"Certainly, madam," I said.

"And--stay a moment--" she called me back as if an idea had just struck
her--"while you're waiting for the mixture, you'll have time to go on
to Mr. Ranford's with this note."

It was a two-mile walk to the village, and on my way I had time to turn
things over in my mind. It struck me as peculiar that my mistress
should wish the prescription made up without Mr. Brympton's knowledge;
and, putting this together with the scene of the night before, and with
much else that I had noticed and suspected, I began to wonder if the
poor lady was weary of her life, and had come to the mad resolve of
ending it. The idea took such hold on me that I reached the village on
a run, and dropped breathless into a chair before the chemist's
counter. The good man, who was just taking down his shutters, stared a