heart sank, and I quite gave up Uncle
Silas, the aged little servant-man opened the door, and trotted shakily
down the steps to the carriage side.

Uncle Silas had been at death's door for hours; the question of life had
trembled in the scale; but now the doctor said 'he might do.'

'Where was the doctor?'

'In master's room; he blooded him three hours agone.'

I don't think that Milly was so frightened as I. My heart beat, and I was
trembling so that I could hardly get upstairs.

CHAPTER XLIV

_A FRIEND ARISES_

At the top of the great staircase I was glad to see the friendly face
of Mary Quince, who stood, candle in hand, greeting us with many little
courtesies, and a very haggard and pallid smile.

'Very welcome, Miss, hoping you are very well.'

'All well, and you are well, Mary? and oh! tell us quickly how is Uncle
Silas?'

'We thought he was gone, Miss, this morning, but doing fairly now; doctor
says in a trance like. I was helping old Wyat most of the day, and was
there when doctor blooded him, an' he spoke at last; but he must be awful
weak, he took a deal o' blood from his arm, Miss; I held the basin.'

'And he's better--decidedly better?' I asked.

'Well, he's better, doctor says; he talked some, and doctor says if he goes
off asleep again, and begins a-snoring like he did before, we're to loose
the bandage, and let him bleed till he comes to his self again; which, it
seems to me and Wyat, is the same thing a'most as saying he's to be killed
off-hand, for I don't believe he has a drop to spare, as you'll say
likewise, Miss, if you'll please look in the basin.'

This was not an invitation with which I cared to comply. I thought I was
going to faint. I sat on the stairs and sipped a little water, and Quince
sprinkled a little in my face, and my strength returned.

Milly must have felt her father's danger more than I, for she was
affectionate, and loved him from habit and relation, although he was not
kind to her. But I was more nervous and more impetuous, and my feelings
both stimulated and overpowered me more easily. The moment I was able to
stand I said--thinking of nothing but the one idea--

'We must see him--_come_, Milly.'

I entered his sitting-room; a common 'dip' candle hanging like the tower
of Pisa all to one side, with a dim, long wick, in a greasy candlestick,
profaned the table of the fastidious invalid. The light was little better
than darkness, and I crossed the room s