North took the old woman's head between his hands as they stood there in the darkness, and kissed her on the forehead. "Yes, the best and gentlest of nurses," he said quietly. "And you will let me help you, sir?" "Yes; but not now. It was a kind of fit you heard--nothing more. Now go. See that I am not disturbed. Perhaps I can sleep. There: you know there is no one here." "Yes, my dear, of course--of course. I ought to have known better; I know now. And you will try to sleep?" "Yes--I promise you, yes. "Let me go down and get something for you; tell me what, and the quantities." "Yes," said North eagerly, for she seemed to be opening before him the gates of release from his life of horror; but he shook his head as he called to mind how familiar she was with his surgery, and that if he bade her mix what he wished, she would turn suspicious and refuse. "What shall I do, my dear?" said the old woman tenderly. "Nothing now," he said; "sleep will be best. Let me go to sleep." The old housekeeper sighed; but she made no opposition, and let him gently lead her to the door and shut her out, where she stood with her apron to her eyes, listening for a few moments to the loud snap given by the lock, and the dull, low sound of his pacing feet. Then the old woman seemed to change. She let fall her apron and tightened her lips. Her eyes grew keen and eager, and she gazed straight before her, deep in thought. In a few moments her mind was made up. "He must have proper help," she said softly; and with an activity not to be expected of one at her time of life, she hurried up to her bedroom, to come out in a few minutes dressed for going out. "I must fetch help," she said eagerly, and going to North's door she listened for a few moments more before hurrying down to the door, when a step on the gravel made her utter a cry of joy. The man she was going to seek was coming up to the house, and the next minute she had confided to Salis all she felt and knew, and he had gone back to Mary, before hurrying away to telegraph to town. Volume 3, Chapter XV. DALLY'S PLANS. "It's little better than murder: it's cruel, that's what it is. What does he mean by being ill and shutting hisself up, and won't see anybody? What right has a doctor to go and be ill? Yah!" Old Moredock stared his clock full in the face as it ticked away slowly and regularly in the most unconcerned way. "Yes! go it!" cried the old man, "go on marking it off, all your minutes and hours, but I don't mean to die yet, so you needn't think it. I'm not so old as all that, and if doctor 'll only get well, I'll astonish some on 'em." He changed his position, stared at his fire, and laboriously, and with many a groan, got down his old leaden tobacco box and pipe, filled slowly, lit up, and began to smoke; but somehow he did not seem to enjoy his pipe, and removed it again and again to go on muttering to himself.