The days dragged wearily along for Roderick and his sister. October, which began in summer sunshine, relieved but not chilled by bracing airs, was waning in cloud and gloom; dull foggy days of rain, or windy tempests ending in early frosts. The sick room was close and damp. The ruddier the blaze upon the hearth, the stronger the flavour of mould and damp drawn out from the oozy walls and cold clay floor. The chamber would grow close but never warm, and the capacious chimney seemed powerless for ventilation, and served only as an escape for the heat. After undergoing the visitation of Mr. Geddie and his companions, Roderick had had a return of his more serious symptoms. Indignation and outraged feelings sent the blood boiling in stormy tumult through his veins, and he was not weak enough to obtain the relief of tears. Self-respect required him to preserve calmness before the friends who were with him; and his irritation, deprived of vent in speech or action, settled in the morbid part of his system, and rekindled the expiring inflammation in his chest. He was therefore a prisoner once more to his bed, when he would gladly have been removing himself from the scene of his mortifications, and had no alleviation save the visits of Kenneth and the Laird; but these were frequent. Whenever other matters brought the former to the village he made a point of calling to enquire; and it was remarkable how frequently business demanded his presence there at this time. During the first week the gossips observed him ride three alternate days down their street, and the traders began seriously to consider whether they could not so improve their stocks as to tempt some share of the Inchbracken petty custom from Inverlyon. After that, however, his visits became daily, there was no longer even a pretence of other business, and Ebenezer Prittie abandoned the hope of supplying the Drysdale property with nails and ironmongery. Kenneth was sincerely interested in his friend's health, and sat sympathizingly by his bedside, but the patient was not able to talk much, and even if he had been, was forbidden to try. He was often drowsy, too, and sometimes slept, owing to the restless wakefulness of his nights. It fell, therefore, on Mary to make the conversation, a duty which she fulfilled apparently to their mutual satisfaction, seeing that the visits grew more frequent and of longer and longer duration. What they found to talk about no one can say, for their voices were pitched in the lowest tones--of course that the patient might not be disturbed; and apparently he was not, if we may judge from the ease with which he soon fell into an established routine. He would welcome his visitor with a cordial handshake, answer the regulation questions about his health, hear any little item of news that might be stirring, and then calmly close his eyes, and turn round for another nap.