ineffectually,
and the physicians had declared, about an hour before I arrived, that he
could not, in human probability, outlive the night. Stifling the rising
at my heart, I waited to hear no more: I flew up the stairs; I was at
the door of my uncle's chamber; I stopped there, and listened; all
was still; I opened the door gently; I stole in, and, creeping to the
bedside, knelt down and covered my face with my hands; for I required
a pause for self-possession, before I had courage to look up. When I
raised my eyes, I saw my mother on the opposite side; she sat on a chair
with a draught of medicine in one hand, and a watch in the other. She
caught my eye, but did not speak; she gave me a sign of recognition, and
looked down again upon the watch. My uncle's back was turned to me,
and he lay so still that, for some moments, I thought he was asleep; at
last, however, he moved restlessly.

"It is past noon!" said he to my mother, "is it not?"

"It is three minutes and six seconds after four," replied my mother,
looking closer at the watch.

My uncle sighed. "They have sent an express for the dear boy, Madam?"
said he.

"Exactly at half-past nine last evening," answered my mother, glancing
at me.

"He could scarcely be here by this time," said my uncle, and he moved
again in the bed. "Pish, how the pillow frets one!"

"Is it too high?" said my mother.

"No," said my uncle, faintly, "no--no--the discomfort is not in the
pillow, after all: 'tis a fine day; is it not?"

"Very!" said my mother; "I wish you could go out."

My uncle did not answer: there was a pause. "Ods fish, Madam, are those
carriage wheels?"

"No, Sir William--but--"

"There _are_ sounds in my ear; my senses grow dim," said my uncle,
unheeding her: "would that I might live another day; I should not
like to die without seeing him. 'Sdeath, Madam, I do hear something
behind!--Sobs, as I live!--Who sobs for the old knight?" and my uncle
turned round, and saw me.

"My dear--dear uncle!" I said, and could say no more.

"Ah, Morton," cried the kind old man, putting his hand affectionately
upon mine. "Beshrew me, but I think I have conquered the grim enemy now
that you are come. But what's this, my boy?--tears--tears,--why, little
Sid--no, nor Rochester either, would ever have believed this if I had
sworn it! Cheer up, cheer up."

But, seeing that I wept and sobbed the more, my uncle, after a pause,
continued in the somewhat figurative strain whic