lifted, and an indescribable expression of grief and fatigue, he sank
stiffly into his chair, and remained mute, with eyes closed for some time.
Then applying his scented handkerchief to them hastily, and looking very
kindly at me, he said--

'Anything more, dear child?'

'Nothing, uncle, thank you, very much, only about that man, Hawkes; I dare
say that he does not mean to be so uncivil as he is, but I am really afraid
of him, and he makes our walks in that direction quite unpleasant.'

'I understand quite, my dear. I will see to it; and you must remember that
nothing is to be allowed to vex my beloved niece and ward during her stay
at Bartram--nothing that her old kinsman, Silas Ruthyn, can remedy.'

So with a tender smile, and a charge to shut the door 'perfectly, but
without clapping it,' he dismissed me. Doctor Bryerly had not slept at
Bartram, but at the little inn in Feltram, and he was going direct to
London, as I afterwards learned.

'Your ugly doctor's gone away in a fly,' said Milly, as we met on the
stairs, she running up, I down.

On reaching the little apartment which was our sitting-room, however, I
found that she was mistaken; for Doctor Bryerly, with his hat and a great
pair of woollen gloves on, and an old Oxford grey surtout that showed his
lank length to advantage, buttoned all the way up to his chin, had set down
his black leather bag on the table, and was reading at the window a little
volume which I had borrowed from my uncle's library.