He drank it. "You are!" he went on, obstinately, "I hated you from the minute you entered this house, and you repaid me with compound interest. Here you are, sitting up at night; waiting on me all day. I can't do without you, because you are handy and wakeful, but I don't like you. Do you hear?" "Yes, sir." "I _don't_! and therefore, I'm a fool to tolerate the sight of you. I'm a fool--_that's_ proved! You are spoiling your eyes and complexion, and losing the time you might be catching a husband--mewed up here. You expect to be paid when my will is read--that's knavery--hypocritical knavery. I haven't left you a red cent; you are a fool to think of it, and _that's_ proved!" Pitiful driveller! It was not insensibility, but compassion, that closed Ida's month, although she knew this was the revelation of the inner chamber of thought, now that the veil of custom and policy was rent in twain. "What time is it?" "Twelve o'clock, sir." "That's a lie! it's three, at least! Bring the witch to me. It has stopped! Hold it to my ear--you've put it back! Lay it down by me! I don't trust you again!" The hands pointed to one when Mrs. Read appeared. "Well, madam!" the form of each tooth was seen through the thin lips, stretched over them like yellow parchment. "And where have you been traipsing?" "I walked down the street." "And on Main street, too, I'll swear! spending more money than you'd sell for at auction! Why don't you answer me? Your tongue was more glib when you were passing compliments with that fellow who walked with you." "I went out alone, and did not go on Main street." "You would have been better employed in the kitchen--forever gadding! I don't want you in here--I'm sick of you and your brazen face!" "What error to suppose that sickness softens, and predisposes the heart to repentance!" thought Ida. She went into the other room, and beckoned Mrs. Read. "The doctor was here this morning," she said; "and told me, privately, not to mind his irritability, nor to answer him, unless silence increased it. It is an ordinary symptom in neuralgic affections. We must be forbearing." "There is a limit to everything," was Mrs. Read's response. "True--but forbearance should last as long as the pain we would cure." "That is your theory, Miss Ida. I am tired of the practice. You mean well, I have no doubt, but I am not a fit object for your charity." The asperity was pointed at herself, rather than at her hearer, and Ida pondered upon her words and manner, often during the day. "It did not agree with" Josephine "to sit up"--a constitutional weakness, loudly lamented, and encouraged, instead of overcome. Ida and Mrs. Read divided the vigil; the mulatto nurse, Sarah, sleeping in the apartment. Ida was to watch the latter part of the night. The patient was cross and restless, when she looked in upon him at bed-time--railing, and swearing and abusive.