That night Henry was awakened by hearing people moving backwards and forwards in the passages. For a moment he thought of burglars, and wondered if he should get up; but the sounds soon ceased, so he turned over and went to sleep again. As he learned in the morning, the cause of the disturbance was that Mr. Levinger had been seized with one of his heart attacks, which for a few minutes threatened to be serious, if not fatal. Under the influence of restoratives, that were always kept at hand, the danger passed as quickly as it had arisen, although Emma remained by her father’s bedside to watch him for a while. “That was a near thing, Emma,” he said presently: “for about thirty seconds I almost thought——” and he stopped. “Well, it is over now, father dear,” she answered. “Yes, but for how long? One day I shall be taken in this fashion and come back no more.” “Pray don’t talk like that, father.” “Why not, seeing that it is what I must accustom my mind to? Oh! Emma, if I could but see you safely married I should not trouble so much, but the uncertainty as to your future worries me more than anything else. However, you must settle these things for yourself; I have no right to dictate to you about them. Good night, my love, and thank you for your kindness. No, there is no need for you to stop up. If I should want anything I will touch the bell.” “I wonder why he is so bent upon my getting married,” thought Emma, as she went back to her bed, “especially as, even did anything happen to him, I should be left well off at least, I suppose so. Well, it is no use my troubling myself about it till the time comes, if ever it does come.” After his attack of the previous night, Mr. Levinger was unable to come out shooting as he had hoped to do. He said, however, that if he felt well enough he would drive in the afternoon to a spot known as the Hanging Wood, which was to be the last and best beat of the day; and it was arranged that Emma should accompany him and walk home, a distance of some two miles. The day was fine, and the shooting very fair; but, fond as he was of the sport, Henry did not greatly enjoy himself which, in view of what lay behind and before him, is scarcely to be wondered at.