Mary Quince was close by, and therefore I was not afraid to get up and peep from the window. My heart beat fast as I saw a post-chaise approach the court-yard. A front window was let down, and the postilion pulled up for a few seconds. In consequence of some directions received by him, I fancied he resumed his route at a walk, and so drew up at the hall-door, on the steps of which a figure awaited his arrival. I think it was old L'Amour, but I could not be quite certain. There was a lantern on the top of the balustrade, close by the door. The chaise-lamps were lighted, for the night was rather dark. A bag and valise, as well as I could see, were pulled from the interior by the post-boy, and a box from the top of the vehicle, and these were carried into the hall. I was obliged to keep my cheek against the window-pane to command a view of the point of debarkation, and my breath upon the glass, which dimmed it again almost as fast as I wiped it away, helped to obscure my vision. But I saw a tall figure, in a cloak, get down and swiftly enter the house, but whether male or female I could not discern. My heart beat fast. I jumped at once to a conclusion. My uncle was worse--was, in fact, dying; and this was the physician, too late summoned to his bedside. I listened for the ascent of the doctor, and his entrance at my uncle's door, which, in the stillness of the night, I thought I might easily hear, but no sound reached me. I listened so for fully five minutes, but without result. I returned to the window, but the carriage and horses had disappeared. I was strongly tempted to wake Mary Quince, and take counsel with her, and persuade her to undertake a reconnoissance. The fact is, I was persuaded that my uncle was in extremity, and I was quite wild to know the doctor's opinion. But, after all, it would be cruel to summon the good soul from her refreshing nap. So, as I began to feel very cold, I returned to my bed, where I continued to listen and conjecture until I fell asleep. In the morning, as was usual, before I was dressed, in came Milly. 'How is Uncle Silas?' I eagerly enquired. 'Old L'Amour says he's queerish still; but he's not so dull as yesterday,' answered she. 'Was not the doctor sent for?' I asked. 'Was he? Well, that's odd; and she said never a word o't to me,' answered she. 'I'm asking only,' said I. 'I don't know whether he came or no,' she replied; 'but what makes you take that in your head?' 'A chaise arrived here between two and three o'clock last night.' 'Hey! and who told you?' Milly seemed all on a sudden highly interested. 'I saw it, Milly; and some one, I fancy the doctor, came from it into the house.' 'Fudge, lass! who'd send for the doctor? 'Twasn't he, I tell you. What was he like?' said Milly. 'I could only see clearly that he, or _she_, was tall, and wore a cloak,' I replied.