d off toward Uncle Silas's room.

The Governor is queerish this evening,' said Milly, when we were seated at
our tea. 'You never saw him queerish, did you?'

'You must say what you mean, more plainly, Milly. You don't mean ill, I
hope?'

'Well! I don't know what it is; but he does grow very queer
sometimes--you'd think he was dead a'most, maybe two or three days and
nights together. He sits all the time like an old woman in a swound. Well,
well, it is awful!'

'Is he insensible when in that state?' I asked, a good deal alarmed.

'I don't know; but it never signifies anything. It won't kill him, I do
believe; but old L'Amour knows all about it. I hardly ever go into the room
when he's so, only when I'm sent for; and he sometimes wakes up and takes a
fancy to call for this one or that. One day he sent for Pegtop all the way
to the mill; and when he came, he only stared at him for a minute or two,
and ordered him out o' the room. He's like a child a'most, when he's in one
o' them dazes.'

I always knew when Uncle Silas was 'queerish,' by the injunctions of old
L'Amour, whistled and spluttered over the banister as we came up-stairs,
to mind how we made a noise passing master's door; and by the sound of
mysterious to-ings and fro-ings about his room.

I saw very little of him. He sometimes took a whim to have us breakfast
with him, which lasted perhaps for a week; and then the order of our living
would relapse into its old routine.

I must not forget two kind letters from Lady Knollys, who was detained
away, and delighted to hear that I enjoyed my quiet life; and promised to
apply, in person, to Uncle Silas, for permission to visit me.

She was to be for the Christmas at Elverston, and that was only six miles
away from Bartram-Haugh, so I had the excitement of a pleasant look
forward.

She also said that she would include poor Milly in her invitation; and a
vision of Captain Oakley rose before me, with his handsome gaze turned in
wonder on poor Milly, for whom I had begun to feel myself responsible.

CHAPTER XXXVI

_AN ARRIVAL AT DEAD OF NIGHT_

I have sometimes been asked why I wear an odd little turquois ring--which
to the uninstructed eye appears quite valueless and altogether an unworthy
companion of those jewels which flash insultingly beside it. It is a little
keepsake, of which I became possessed about this time.

'Come, lass, what name shall I give you?' cried Milly, one morning,
bursting int