g, dressed in a white dressing-gown, looked
like a corpse 'laid out' in the bed; his gaunt bandaged arm lay outside the
sheet that covered his body.

With this awful image of death we kept our vigil, until poor Milly grew so
sleepy that old Wyat proposed that she should take her place and watch with
me.

Little as I liked the crone with the high-cauled cap, she would, at all
events, keep awake, which Milly could not. And so at one o'clock this new
arrangement began.

'Mr. Dudley Ruthyn is not at home?' I whispered to old Wyat.

'He went away wi' himself yesternight, to Cloperton, Miss, to see the
wrestling; it was to come off this morning.'

'Was he sent for?'

'Not he.'

'And why not?'

'He would na' leave the sport for this, I'm thinking,' and the old woman
grinned uglily.

'When is he to return?'

'When he wants money.'

So we grew silent, and again I thought of suicide, and of the unhappy old
man, who just then whispered a sentence or two to himself with a sigh.

For the next hour he had been quite silent, and old Wyat informed me that
she must go down for candles. Ours were already burnt down to the sockets.

'There's a candle in the next room,' I suggested, hating the idea of being
left alone with the patient.

'Hoot! Miss. I _dare_ na' set a candle but wax in his presence,' whispered
the old woman, scornfully.

'I think if we were to stir the fire, and put on a little more coal, we
should have a great deal of light.'

'He'll ha' the candles,' said Dame Wyat, doggedly; and she tottered from
the chamber, muttering to herself; and I heard her take her candle from the
next room and depart, shutting the outer door after her.

Here was I then alone, but for this unearthly companion, whom I feared
inexpressibly, at two o'clock, in the vast old house of Bartram.

I stirred the fire. It was low, and would not blaze. I stood up, and, with
my hand on the mantelpiece, endeavoured to think of cheerful things. But
it was a struggle against wind and tide--vain; and so I drifted away into
haunted regions.

Uncle Silas was perfectly still. I would not suffer myself to think of the
number of dark rooms and passages which now separated me from the other
living tenants of the house. I awaited with a false composure the return of
old Wyat.

Over the mantelpiece was a looking-glass. At another time this might have
helped to entertain my solitary moments, but now I did not like to venture
a peep. A small thic