Miss Thornton was too much shocked to say anything. To hear a young lady speak of a handsome military man as a "darling," went quite beyond her experience. She was considering how much bread and water and backboard she would have felt it her duty to give Lady Kate, or Lady Fanny, in old times, for such an expression, when the Vicar, who had been dozing, woke up and said:-- "Bless us, what a night! The equinoctial gales come back again. This rain will make up for the dry March with a vengeance; I am glad I am safely housed before a good fire." Unlucky words! he drew nearer to the fire, and began rubbing his knees; he had given them about three rubs, when the door opened and the maid's voice was heard ominous of evil. "Thomas Jewel is worse, sir, and if you please his missis don't expect he'll last the night; and could you just step up?" "Just stepping up," was a pretty little euphemism for walking three long miles dead in the teeth of a gale of wind, with a fierce rushing tropical rain. One of the numerous tenders of the ship Jewel (74), had just arrived before the wind under bare poles, an attempt to set a rag of umbrella having ended in its being blown out of the bolt-ropes, and the aforesaid tender Jewel was now in the vicarage harbour of refuge, reflecting what an awful job it would have in beating back against the monsoon. "Who has come with this message?" said the Vicar, entering the kitchen followed by Miss Thornton and Mary. "Me, sir," says a voice from the doorway. "Oh, come in, will you," said the Vicar; "it's a terrible night, is it not?" "Oh Loord!" said the voice in reply--intending that ejaculation for a very strong affirmative. And advancing towards the light, displayed a figure in a long brown great-coat, reaching to the ancles, and topped by some sort of head-dress, resembling very closely a small black carpet bag, tied on with a red cotton handkerchief. This was all that was visible, and the good Vicar stood doubting whether it was male or female, till catching sight of an immense pair of hobnail boots peeping from the lower extremity of the coat, he made up his mind at once, and began:-- "My good boy--" There was a cackling laugh from under the carpet bag, and a harsh grating voice replied: "I be a gurl." "Dear me," said the Vicar, "then what do you dress yourself in that style for?--So old Jewel is worse." "Us don't think a'll live the night." "Is the doctor with him?" said the Vicar. "The 'Talian's with un." By which he understood her to mean Dr. Mulhaus, all foreigners being considered to be Italians in Drumston. An idea they got, I take it, from the wandering organ men being of that nation. "Well," said the Vicar, "I will start at once, and come. It's a terrible night." The owner of the great-coat assented with a fiendish cackle, and departed. The Vicar, having been well wrapped up by his sister and daughter, departed also, with a last injunction from Miss Thornton to take care of himself.