The stamping of Susan's foot on the floor, the sound of some commotion in the sick-room, and at last her voice calling out in uncontrollable terror, brought all the other inmates of the house to the room--Peggy, the doctor half awake, the nurse, and Uncle Edward, all of whom, at Susan's earnest instance, had lain down to seek an hour's sleep. Among all these anxious people Horace looked still more like a spectre--but after another moment spent in inquisitive inspection of the room, he turned to the doctor and overpowered him with questions. As if in braggadocio and daring exhibition of his want of feeling, he urged the surgeon into descriptions of the complaint: what it was--and how it came on--and what were its particular features. While the astonished doctor replied as shortly as possible, and turned his back upon the heartless questioner, Horace hovered more and more closely about his father's bed. Another fit produced by the sudden appearance of his son had almost completed the mortal work which was going on in the emaciated frame of the recluse. It did not matter to anybody now that those eyes were faintly open, which a little while ago were full of unspeakable things; the force and the life had ebbed out of those windows of the soul, and the patient no longer knew anything of the agitated consultations going on over him, or of the hideous curiosity with which his son thrust into those, asking questions which horrified the hearers. When the doctor said that there were complications in this case, which made it difficult to treat, the young man laughed a short, hoarse, horrible laugh, and asked "how long do you think he will last?" in a tone which made them shudder. They were all afraid of his haggard figure as it swayed to and fro about the bed. "You've been drinking, sir," said the doctor, in authoritative disgust. "You can't do any good here--be quiet and go to bed. He distresses the patient; some of you take him away." "Mr. Horry, come with me," said Peggy, laying her hand upon his shoulder. He followed her out of the room without saying anything. He _was_ mad, crazed, intoxicated; but with a deadlier poison than was ever distilled from corn or vine! The old woman took him into his own room and left him there. She shook her head at him in sad displeasure, but understood nothing of the tragic misery which made him mad. "I bid ye not to grieve," she said, reproachfully. "The Lord knows he's been little of a father to you, that you should break your heart for him; but be dacent, Mr. Horry, be dacent; if it's no for love's sake, as is no possible, yet have respect to death."