It seemed to me an hour before old Wyat came back; and never was lover made
happier at sight of his mistress than I to behold that withered crone.
You may be sure I did not prolong my watch. There was now plainly no risk
of my uncle's relapsing into lethargy. I had a long hysterical fit of
weeping when I got into my room, with honest Mary Quince by my side.
Whenever I closed my eyes, the face of Uncle Silas was before me, as I had
seen it reflected in the glass. The sorceries of Bartram were enveloping me
once more.
Next morning the doctor said he was quite out of danger, but very weak.
Milly and I saw him; and again in our afternoon walk we saw the doctor
marching under the trees in the direction of the Windmill Wood.
'Going down to see that poor girl there?' he said, when he had made his
salutation, prodding with his levelled stick in the direction. 'Hawke, or
Hawkes, I think.'
'Beauty's sick, Maud,' exclaimed Milly.
'_Hawkes_. She's upon my dispensary list. Yes,' said the doctor, looking
into his little note-book--'Hawkes.'
'And what is her complaint?'
'Rheumatic fever.
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