I placed the medicine upon the table, and sat down, exhausted and wretched. Whose situation so low, could he have known all, that would not have pitied me? Wright rose, and carried the medicines up stairs; and in another minute all was the stillness of death. I could have borne any thing but this--at least I so felt--but under this oppressive stillness, my feelings gave way in torrents of tears, and every moment brought a fresh accusation against myself for my past doings; and again I looked around me, as well as my tearful eyes and dimly-lighted room would allow, and contrasted all with John Wright's. "So comfortable," said I, involuntarily. Indistinct sounds and cautious steppings were now heard above; and while I was raising myself up to listen, in order to catch, if possible, something that would acquaint me with the state of my poor Mary, the bedroom door opened, and down came Wright and his wife, the latter carefully lighting the doctor, Mrs. Mason being close behind him. I tried to recover myself a little, and to assume something like the appearance of courage; and in a half-choked, coughing voice, said, "How is my poor wife, sir?" The doctor, with a severity of manner, and imitating my manner of speaking, replied, "You should have coughed sooner, James;" then turning to Mrs. Mason, said, "Remember, _quiet_ is the best medicine _now_; indeed, it is food and medicine in her present state; don't teaze her about any thing; at half past, mind--and again at twelve, until the pain subsides, when sleep will follow." I shrunk back at the words "half past," which reminded me that I had not even a twenty-shilling clock in the house. "James," said the doctor, "have you no time in the house?" "No, I suppose not," he answered himself. "Well, then, you must guess at it; oh dear, bad work indeed. Come, James, put that bit of candle into the lantern; I hope it does not rain now." Wright opened the door, and I walked out with the lantern, the doctor following, and, buttoning his coat closely round him, remarked upon the darkness of the night. I walked on with an unsteady step, feeling as if every yard of ground I strode over would be the last. But, urged on by my situation, I reached the doctor's house without any remark from him upon my wearied step, and pulled his bell in rather a hasty manner. "You are in a hurry, James," said he, "you forget the time of night; a gentle pull would have waked the attendant without disturbing my family. _My_ family are very regular, James, and I make it a rule never to disturb them when it can be avoided; perhaps you think such things of no consequence: regularity, James, and sobriety, are two very principal things in a family."