Evening had fallen over stream and meadow, over upland and forest, at Knockholt. It had come with the restless and depressing influence which contrasts so strangely with the calm and peace it brings to the fulness of life and health, into the lofty and spacious chamber where Sir Peregrine lay, prostrate under the victorious hand of paralysis. The mysterious influence of serious illness, the shadow of the wings of the Angel of Death, rested heavily upon the whole of that decorously-ordered house; and the watchers in the chamber of helplessness, it may be of pain,--who can tell? who can interpret the enforced stillness, the inexorable dumbness of that dread disease?--succumbed to its gloom. Mrs. Chisholm and Helen were there, not, indeed, close by the bed, not watching eagerly the motionless form, but gazing alternately at each other and at the doctor, who kept a vigilant watch over the patient. This watch had, if possible, increased in intensity since sunset, at which time Dr. Galton had perceived a change, visible at first to the eye of science alone. The dreadful immobility had certainly relaxed; the rigidity of the features, blended with an indescribable but wofully-perceptible distortion of the habitual expression, had softened; the plum-like blueness of the lips had faded to a hue less startlingly contrasted with that of the shrunken and ashy features. "He will recover from this attack, I hope--I think," said the doctor in answer to a mute question which he read in Helen's eyes, as he stood upright after a long and close investigation of the patient. "Yes, he will outlive this. I wish Colonel Alsager were here." "We may expect him very soon," Mrs. Chisholm said; "he would start immediately of course, and we know the telegraph-message would reach him in time for him to catch the up-train." As she spoke, wheels were heard on the distant carriage-drive. Sir Peregrine's room was on the north side, that farthest from the approach; and immediately afterwards a servant gently opened the door--ah, with what needless caution!--and told Mrs. Chisholm that the Colonel had arrived, and desired to see her. There was more awkwardness than agitation in Mrs. Chisholm's manner as she hurriedly rose to comply with this request, but was interrupted by Dr. Galton, who said: "No, no, my dear madam,--I had better see him myself; I can make him understand the necessary care and caution better than you can." Mrs. Chisholm returned to her seat in silent acquiescence; and for the ensuing half-hour she and Helen sat sadly looking at the helpless form upon the bed, and occasionally whispering to one another their several impressions of how Laurence Alsager "would bear it."