Who are you, sir? What do you want here? Who are you, sir, I say?"

"Who am I? Why, your physician, sir; Doctor Parkes, sir; the owner of
this house, sir," replied he, with all the sternness he could command,
and yet white as a specter with agitation. "For shame, sir, for shame, to
give way thus. What do you mean by creating this causeless alarm, and
disturbing the whole household at so unseasonable an hour? For shame,
sir; go to your bed; undress yourself this moment; for shame."

Doctor Parkes, as he spoke, was reassured by the arrival of one of his
servants, alarmed by the unmistakable sounds of violent frenzy; he
signed, however, to the man not to enter, feeling confident, as he did,
that the paroxysm had spent itself.

"Aye, aye," muttered Marston, looking almost sheepishly; "Doctor Parkes,
to be sure. What was I thinking of? how cursedly absurd! And this," he
continued, glancing at his sword, which he threw impatiently upon a sofa
as he spoke. "Folly--nonsense! A false alarm, as you say, doctor. I beg
your pardon."

As Marston spoke, he proceeded with much agitation slowly to undress
himself. He had, however, but commenced the process, when, turning
abruptly to Doctor Parkes, he said, with a countenance of horror, and in
a whisper--

"By ----, doctor, it has been upon me worse than ever, I would have sworn
I had the villain with me for hours--hours, sir--torturing me with his
damned sneering threats; till, by ----, I could stand it no longer, and
took my sword. Oh, doctor, can't you save me? can nothing be done for
me?"

Pale, covered with the dews of horror, he uttered these last words in
accents of such imploring despair, as might have borne across the
dreadful gulf the prayer of Dives for that one drop of water which never
was to cool his burning tongue.

When Rhoda learned that her father, on leaving Gray Forest, had fixed no
definite period for his return, she began to feel her situation at home
so painful and equivocal, that, having taken honest Willett to counsel,
she came at last to the resolution of accepting the often conveyed
invitation of Mrs. Mervyn and sojourning, at all events until her
father's return, at Newton Park.

"My dear young friend," said the kind lady, as soon as she heard Rhoda's
little speech to its close, "I can scarcely describe the gratification
with which I see you here; the happiness with which I welcome you to
Newton Park; nor, indeed, the anxiety with which I constantly