as care?' said I, a good deal surprised.

'They're a-tellin' lies.'

'Who?' said I.

'L'Amour--that's who. So soon as she made her complaint of me, the Gov'nor
asked her, sharp enough, did anyone come last night, or a po'shay; and she
was ready to swear there was no one. Are ye quite sure, Maud, you really
did see aught, or 'appen 'twas all a dream?'

'It was no dream, Milly; so sure as you are there, I saw exactly what I
told you,' I replied.

'Gov'nor won't believe it anyhow; and he's right mad wi' me; and he
threatens me he'll have me off to France; I wish 'twas under the sea. I
hate France--I do--like the devil. Don't you? They're always a-threatening
me wi' France, if I dare say a word more about the po'shay, or--or anyone.'

I really was curious about Cormoran; but Cormoran was not to be defined
to me by Milly; nor did she, in reality, know more than I respecting the
arrival of the night before.

One day I was surprised to see Doctor Bryerly on the stairs. I was standing
in a dark gallery as he walked across the floor of the lobby to my uncle's
door, his hat on, and some papers in his hand.

He did not see me; and when he had entered Uncle Silas's door, I went down
and found Milly awaiting me in the hall.

'So Doctor Bryerly is here,' I said.

'That's the thin fellow, wi' the sharp look, and the shiny black coat, that
went up just now?' asked Milly.

'Yes, he's gone into your papa's room,' said I.

''Appen 'twas he come 'tother night. He may be staying here, though we see
him seldom, for it's a barrack of a house--it is.'

The same thought had struck me for a moment, but was dismissed immediately.
It certainly was _not_ Doctor Bryerly's figure which I had seen.

So, without any new light gathered from this apparition, we went on our
way, and made our little sketch of the ruined bridge. We found the gate
locked as before; and, as Milly could not persuade me to climb it, we got
round the paling by the river's bank.

While at our drawing, we saw the swarthy face, sooty locks, and old
weather-stained red coat of Zamiel, who was glowering malignly at us
from among the trunks of the forest trees, and standing motionless as a
monumental figure in the side aisle of a cathedral. When we looked again he
was gone.

Although it was a fine mild day for the wintry season, we yet, cloaked as
we were, could not pursue so still an occupation as sketching for more than
ten or fifteen minutes. As we returned, in p