The Watch made us all latish, and arise yawnish. _Peter_ told me the Roads were all astir before Light, with People returning to their Homes; and that the Preachers were trying to enforce on their Penitents that they had had an Answer to Prayer. Lady _Betty_ did not rise till Noon; what with her Vapours, her Whims, and her Breakfast, she did not depart till two o'Clock. We had scarcely a Word of _Gatty_, but she ran in to us just at last, and kissed us all round, taking Leave of us once for all, and receiving our good Wishes for her future Happiness with many Blushes and Smiles. Mr. _Heavitree_ had already gone off; and as soon as we had tidied my _Lady's_ Rooms, we all subsided into our usual Quiet. The following Day, about Noon, I was behind the Counter, when I received a great Shock by hearing a Customer say casually, "Dr. _Elwes_ is dead--he went off quite suddenly at six this Morning." I could hardly go on weighing some Comfits, the Tears crowded so fast into my Eyes at the unexpected Loss of our old Friend. I remained but to have the ill News confirmed and gather the Particulars, and then went up to break them to my _Mother_, who was sitting with my _Father_ in their own Chamber. She was a good deal affected, and my _Father_ undertook the Office of Consoler with great Kindliness. After a While I went down and asked _Prue_, who felt less Concern than I did for the _Doctor_, to take my Place a little While in the Shop. Then I went and sate down in the Parlour, and thought over his various Acts of Kindness to me, and shed some Tears of unaffected Regret. He had never been a decidedly religious Character, but was much liked by his Patients, deservedly loved by the Poor, and to us had been a tried and valued Friend. While I was in this sorrowful Mood, in comes Mr. _Fenwick_, so flushed with Exercise and good Spirits as to look quite handsome. Feeling so low as I did just then, I did not reciprocate his Salutation quite so cheerfully as he seemed to expect; and he, on his Part, on finding that my _Father_ and _Mother_ were well, paid less Attention to my Depression than he might have done; and, for the first Time in my Life, I thought him a little selfish. "I have some good News," said he. "I am glad to hear it," said I, "for I have some bad News." "What's that?" said he. "Our dear Friend Dr. _Elwes_ is dead;" and I put the Corner of my Apron to my Eyes. "Well,--I am sorry to hear it," resumes he, after a Pause; "he was not, I fear, a very thoughtful Man." "A very _good_ Man," said I, warming. "A very kindly, attentive Man in a Sick-room," says he, "and a pleasant Companion, which is all I know about him." "_We_ knew a good Deal more," said I, "and know that his Loss won't be soon supplied. We shall miss him very much. He was truly benevolent, whatever you may think." "I don't deny it, I assure you," said he, looking surprised at my Heat, "I only wished there had been a more Christian Basis for his many good Qualities."