a little
sleep.

I said I would wait in the library, on the chance of seeing her. In the
fervour of my zeal to distribute the letters, it never occurred to me to
inquire about Rachel. The house was quiet, and it was past the hour at
which the musical performance began. I took it for granted that she and
her party of pleasure-seekers (Mr. Godfrey, alas! included) were all at
the concert, and eagerly devoted myself to my good work, while time and
opportunity were still at my own disposal.

My aunt's correspondence of the morning--including the six awakening
letters which I had posted overnight--was lying unopened on the library
table. She had evidently not felt herself equal to dealing with a large
mass of letters--and she might be daunted by the number of them, if she
entered the library later in the day. I put one of my second set of
six letters on the chimney-piece by itself; leaving it to attract her
curiosity, by means of its solitary position, apart from the rest. A
second letter I put purposely on the floor in the breakfast-room. The
first servant who went in after me would conclude that my aunt had
dropped it, and would be specially careful to restore it to her. The
field thus sown on the basement story, I ran lightly upstairs to scatter
my mercies next over the drawing-room floor.

Just as I entered the front room, I heard a double knock at the
street-door--a soft, fluttering, considerate little knock. Before I
could think of slipping back to the library (in which I was supposed
to be waiting), the active young footman was in the hall, answering the
door. It mattered little, as I thought. In my aunt's state of health,
visitors in general were not admitted. To my horror and amazement, the
performer of the soft little knock proved to be an exception to
general rules. Samuel's voice below me (after apparently answering some
questions which I did not hear) said, unmistakably, "Upstairs, if
you please, sir." The next moment I heard footsteps--a man's
footsteps--approaching the drawing-room floor. Who could this favoured
male visitor possibly be? Almost as soon as I asked myself the question,
the answer occurred to me. Who COULD it be but the doctor?

In the case of any other visitor, I should have allowed myself to be
discovered in the drawing-room. There would have been nothing out of the
common in my having got tired of the library, and having gone upstairs
for a change. But my own self-respect stood in the way