f horror. She did not care, I suppose, what
sort of feelings she might excite, for she went on mumbling sarcastically
to herself. I had paused, and overcame my reluctance to speak to her again,
for I was really very much frightened. 'Do you think he is in danger? Shall
we send for a doctor?' I whispered.

'Law bless ye, the doctor knows all about it, miss.' The old woman's face
had a gleam of that derision which is so shocking in the features of
feebleness and age.

'But it is a _fit_, it is paralytic, or something horrible--it can't be
_safe_ to leave him to chance or nature to get through these terrible
attacks.'

'There's no fear of him, 'tisn't no fits at all, he's nout the worse o't.
Jest silly a bit now and again. It's been the same a dozen year and more;
and the doctor knows all about it,' answered the old woman sturdily. 'And
ye'll find he'll be as mad as bedlam if ye make any stir about it.'

That night I talked the matter over with Mary Quince.

'They're very dark, miss; but I think he takes a deal too much laudlum,'
said Mary.

To this hour I cannot say what was the nature of those periodical seizures.
I have often spoken to medical men about them, since, but never could learn
that excessive use of opium could altogether account for them. It was,
I believe, certain, however, that he did use that drug in startling
quantities. It was, indeed, sometimes a topic of complaint with him that
his neuralgia imposed this sad necessity upon him.

The image of Uncle Silas, as I had seen him that day, troubled and
affrighted my imagination, as I lay in my bed; I had slept very well since
my arrival at Bartram. So much of the day was passed in the open air, and
in active exercise, that this was but natural. But that night I was nervous
and wakeful, and it was past two o'clock when I fancied I heard the sound
of horses and carriage-wheels on the avenue.

Mary Quince was close by, and therefore I was not afraid to get up and peep
from the window. My heart beat fast as I saw a post-chaise approach the
court-yard. A front window was let down, and the postilion pulled up for a
few seconds.

In consequence of some directions received by him, I fancied he resumed his
route at a walk, and so drew up at the hall-door, on the steps of which a
figure awaited his arrival. I think it was old L'Amour, but I could not be
quite certain. There was a lantern on the top of the balustrade, close by
the door. The chaise-lamps were li