'Yes, we must make allowances; we must be kind. What says the Book?--"Judge not, that ye be not judged." Your dear father acted upon that maxim--so noble and so awful--and I strive to do so. Alas! dear Austin, _longo intervalle_, far behind! and you are removed--my example and my help; you are gone to your rest, and I remain beneath my burden, still marching on by bleak and alpine paths, under the awful night. O nuit, nuit douloureuse! O toi, tardive aurore! Viens-tu? vas-tu venir? es-tu bien loin encore? And repeating these lines of Chenier, with upturned eyes, and one hand lifted, and an indescribable expression of grief and fatigue, he sank stiffly into his chair, and remained mute, with eyes closed for some time. Then applying his scented handkerchief to them hastily, and looking very kindly at me, he said-- 'Anything more, dear child?' 'Nothing, uncle, thank you, very much, only about that man, Hawkes; I dare say that he does not mean to be so uncivil as he is, but I am really afraid of him, and he makes our walks in that direction quite unpleasant.' 'I understand quite, my dear. I will see to it; and you must remember that nothing is to be allowed to vex my beloved niece and ward during her stay at Bartram--nothing that her old kinsman, Silas Ruthyn, can remedy.' So with a tender smile, and a charge to shut the door 'perfectly, but without clapping it,' he dismissed me. Doctor Bryerly had not slept at Bartram, but at the little inn in Feltram, and he was going direct to London, as I afterwards learned. 'Your ugly doctor's gone away in a fly,' said Milly, as we met on the stairs, she running up, I down. On reaching the little apartment which was our sitting-room, however, I found that she was mistaken; for Doctor Bryerly, with his hat and a great pair of woollen gloves on, and an old Oxford grey surtout that showed his lank length to advantage, buttoned all the way up to his chin, had set down his black leather bag on the table, and was reading at the window a little volume which I had borrowed from my uncle's library. It was Swedenborg's account of the other worlds, Heaven and Hell. He closed it on his finger as I entered, and without recollecting to remove his hat, he made a step or two towards me with his splay, creaking boots. With a quick glance at the door, he said-- 'Glad to see you alone for a minute--very glad.' But his countenance, on the contrary, looked very anxious. CHAPTER XXXVIII _A MIDNIGHT DEPARTURE_ 'I'm going this minute--I--I want to know'--another glance at the door--'are you really quite comfortable here?' 'Quite,' I answered promptly. 'You have only your cousin's company?' he continued, glancing at the table, which was laid for two. 'Yes; but Milly and I are very happy together.'