lly. The
proportions of the house are so great, that it is a much longer walk than
you would suppose from the hall-door to Uncle Silas's room. But I did not
cool all that way; and it was not till I had just reached the lobby,
and saw the sour, jealous face, and high caul of old Wyat, and felt the
influence of that neighbourhood, that I paused to reconsider. I fancied
there was a cool consciousness of success behind all the deferential
phraseology of Captain Oakley, which nettled me extremely. No; there could
be no doubt. I tapped softly at the door.

'What is it _now_, Miss?' snarled the querulous old woman, with her
shrivelled fingers on the door-handle.

'Can I see my uncle for a moment?'

'He's tired, and not a word from him all day long.'

'Not ill, though?'

'Awful bad in the night,' said the old crone, with a sudden savage glare in
my face, as if _I_ had brought it about.

'Oh! I'm very sorry. I had not heard a word of it.'

'No one does but old Wyat. There's Milly there never asks neither--his own
child!'

'Weakness, or what?'

'One o' them fits. He'll slide awa' in one o' them some day, and no one but
old Wyat to know nor ask word about it; that's how 'twill be.'

'Will you please hand him this note, if he is well enough to look at it,
and say I am at the door?'

She took it with a peevish nod and a grunt, closing the door in my face,
and in a few minutes returned--

'Come in wi' ye,' said Dame Wyat, and I appeared.

Uncle Silas, who, after his nightly horror or vision, lay extended on a
sofa, with his faded yellow silk dressing-gown about him, his long white
hair hanging toward the ground, and that wild and feeble smile lighting his
face--a glimmer I feared to look upon--his long thin arms lay by his sides,
with hands and fingers that stirred not, except when now and then, with a
feeble motion, he wet his temples and forehead with eau de Cologne from a
glass saucer placed beside him.

'Excellent girl! dutiful ward and niece!' murmured the oracle; 'heaven
reward you--your frank dealing is your own safety and my peace. Sit you
down, and say who is this Captain Oakley, when you made his acquaintance,
what his age, fortune, and expectations, and who the aunt he mentions.'

Upon all these points I satisfied him as fully as I was able.

'Wyat--the white drops,' he called, in a thin, stern tone. 'I'll write a
line presently. I can't see visitors, and, of course, you can't receive
young captains bef