The old man, after a word or two, went to his room soon after dinner, and I understood from Parker, who presently came in, that the master was exceedingly sorry for his discourtesy, but that he did not feel equal to conversation, and intended to go to bed early, and that he would be obliged if I could manage to amuse myself alone that evening. But I too went upstairs early, feeling a little uneasy. On the top landing of the north end of the house there are three doors: the central one is the chapel door; that on the right, approached by two little steep steps of its own, was the priest’s room; that on the left opposite was my own room. As I went in, I noticed that a light shone from under the chapel door, and that his own door was wide open, showing the flickering light of the fire within. As I paused I saw Parker pass across the doorway, and called to him in a low voice. “Yes, sir; he’s fairly well, I think,” he answered to my inquiry. “He is in the chapel just now, and is coming to bed directly. He told me just now, sir, too, to ask whether you would serve him to-morrow morning.” “Certainly,” I said; “but are you sure he ought to get up? He has not been well all day.” “Well, sir,” said Parker; “I will do my best to persuade him to stay in bed, and will let you know if I succeed, but I doubt whether the master will be persuaded.” As I crossed outside the chapel door to go to my own room I heard a murmur from within, with a word or two which I cannot write down. Before I was in bed I heard the chapel door open, and footsteps go up the little steps opposite, and the door close. Presently it opened again; and then a tap at my door. “It’s only me, sir,” said Parker’s voice. “May I speak to you a moment?” and then he came in with a candle in his hand. “I’m not easy about him, sir,” he said. “But he won’t let me sleep in his room, as I asked. I’ve come to ask you whether you will let me lie down on your sofa. I don’t like to leave him. My own room is at the other end of the house. Excuse me, sir, if I’ve asked what I shouldn’t. But I don’t like to sleep on the landing for fear he should look out and see me, and be displeased.” Of course I assented, almost eagerly, for I felt a strange discomfort and loneliness myself. Parker went noiselessly downstairs and got a rug or two and a pillow, and then, with many apologies, lay down on the sofa near the window. My bed stood at the other end of the long narrow room under the sloping side of the roof. I blew the candles out presently, and the room was in darkness. I could not sleep at first. I was anxious for my friend, and I lay and listened for the slightest sound from the landing. But Parker’s face, as I had seen it as he had stood with the candle in his hand, reassured me that he too would be on the watch. The wind had half died down again. Only there came gusts from time to time that shook the leaded windows. Gradually I began to doze, then I suppose I dropped off to sleep, and I dreamed.