Sometimes he stopped to lean his arms on the wooden rail, and stare up at the great mellow stars that burned in the deep purple sky; but only to start as from a dream, to go back into the room, and see if the wounded man had moved. When in the verandah he ground his teeth and clenched his hands. "The fools!" he muttered; "they might have hit a little harder, and then--Pooh! what does he matter?" At the end of an hour he stole back softly into the room to look at the sleeping man again. "He's not much hurt," he muttered. "Who's there?" "Only me," said Hallam, in a hoarse whisper. "Just coming to see how you were getting on." "No, you were not. You were watching me," said Crellock, in an angry whisper. "Did you think I was going to kill him--to get him out of the way?" "No, no. Nothing of the kind, my dear boy," whispered Hallam. "There, I'll go back to my room." "You'll go up to bed," said Crellock firmly. "You've been drinking too much." "Indeed, no. Just a little to steady me." "You go up to bed," said Crellock, taking him by the shoulder. "I'm not going to have my dear father-in-law elect drive himself mad with brandy. Come, no nonsense! Bed!" Hallam made a few feeble protests, and then suffered himself to be led up to his bedroom, Julia and Mrs Hallam sitting trembling in the next, and watching the light flash beneath their door, as they listened to the ascending and descending steps, followed by a rustling in Hallam's room, the low angry muttering he indulged in, and then there was silence once again. A quarter of an hour passed, and they were listening to the heavy, stertorous breathing, when a soft tap came at their door, the handle was turned, and Thisbe appeared. "I only came to see if you were both quite safe," she said. "I could not sleep." "Dear old Thisbe," said Julia, kissing her. "Do, do, please go to bed, my dears," said Thisbe. "I'll sit and watch by you;" and at last, in obedience to her prayer, mother and daughter lay down, but not to sleep, for the dread of some impending calamity that they fancied was about to befall them. Meanwhile Crellock had returned to the dining-room and examined the wounded man again. "It wouldn't be hard," he said to himself, with a laugh. "He is half killed, so it would only be half a murder. Why shouldn't I? He would be out of his misery; and that drunken wretch gave me the credit of being about to do it." He stood gazing down at the sleeping face faintly seen by the candle-light; and then turned away to go out through the glass door, and pace the verandah again. "I wonder whether that's what they call a temptation," he thought. "It would be very easy, and then--" He stopped to lean over the rails again, and gaze before him out into the night.