. Perhaps the very consciousness of
external danger enhances the enjoyment of the well-lighted interior, just
as the storm does that roars and hurtles over the roof.

While Milly and I were talking, very cosily, a knock came to the room-door,
and, without waiting for an invitation to enter, old Wyat came in, and
glowering at us, with her brown claw upon the door-handle, she said to
Milly--

'Ye must leave your funnin', Miss Milly, and take your turn in your
father's room.'

'Is he ill?' I asked.

She answered, addressing not me, but Milly--

'A wrought two hours in a fit arter Master Dudley went. 'Twill be the death
o' him, I'm thinkin', poor old fellah. I wor sorry myself when I saw Master
Dudley a going off in the moist to-day, poor fellah. There's trouble enough
in the family without a' that; but 'twon't be a family long, I'm thinkin'.
Nout but trouble, nout but trouble, since late changes came.'

Judging by the sour glance she threw on me as she said this, I concluded
that I represented those 'late changes' to which all the sorrows of the
house were referred.

I felt unhappy under the ill-will even of this odious old woman, being one
of those unhappily constructed mortals who cannot be indifferent when
they reasonably ought, and always yearn after kindness, even that of the
worthless.

'I must go. I wish you'd come wi' me, Maud, I'm so afraid all alone,' said
Milly, imploringly.

'Certainly, Milly,' I answered, not liking it, you may be sure; 'you shan't
sit there alone.'

So together we went, old Wyat cautioning us for our lives to make no noise.

We passed through the old man's sitting-room, where that day had occurred
his brief but momentous interview with me, and his parting with his only
son, and entered the bed-room at the farther end.

A low fire burned in the grate. The room was in a sort of twilight. A
dim lamp near the foot of the bed at the farther side was the only light
burning there. Old Wyat whispered an injunction not to speak above our
breaths, nor to leave the fireside unless the sick man called or showed
signs of weariness. These were the directions of the doctor, who had been
there.

So Milly and I sat ourselves down near the hearth, and old Wyat left us to
our resources. We could hear the patient breathe; but he was quite still.
In whispers we talked; but our conversation flagged. I was, after my wont,
upbraiding myself for the suffering I had inflicted. After about half an
hour