And the Swedenborgian Doctor stepped into the room, taking the candle with him, and closed the door upon the shadowy still-life there, and on his own sharp and swarthy visage, leaving Mrs. Rusk in a sort of panic in the dark alone, to find her way to her room the best way she could.

Early in the morning Mrs. Rusk came to my room to tell me that Doctor Bryerly was in the parlour, and begged to know whether I had not a message for him.  I was already dressed, so, though it was dreadful seeing a stranger in my then mood, taking the key of the cabinet in my hand, I followed Mrs. Rusk downstairs.

Opening the parlour door, she stepped in, and with a little courtesy said,—­

‘Please, sir, the young mistress—­Miss Ruthyn.’

Draped in black and very pale, tall and slight, ‘the young mistress’ was; and as I entered I heard a newspaper rustle, and the sound of steps approaching to meet me.

Face to face we met, near the door; and, without speaking, I made him a deep courtesy.

He took my hand, without the least indication on my part, in his hard lean grasp, and shook it kindly, but familiarly, peering with a stern sort of curiosity into my face as he continued to hold it.  His ill-fitting, glossy black cloth, ungainly presence, and sharp, dark, vulpine features had in them, as I said before, the vulgarity of a Glasgow artisan in his Sabbath suit.  I made an instantaneous motion to withdraw my hand, but he held it firmly.

Though there was a grim sort of familiarity, there was also decision, shrewdness, and, above all, kindness, in his dark face—­a gleam on the whole of the masterly and the honest—­that along with a certain paleness, betraying, I thought, restrained emotion, indicated sympathy and invited confidence.

‘I hope, Miss, you are pretty well?’ He pronounced ‘pretty’ as it is spelt.  ’I have come in consequence of a solemn promise exacted more than a year since by your deceased father, the late Mr. Austin Ruthyn of Knowl, for whom I cherished a warm esteem, being knit besides with him in spiritual bonds.  It has been a shock to you, Miss?’

‘It has, indeed, sir.’

’I’ve a doctor’s degree, I have—­Doctor of Medicine, Miss.  Like St. Luke, preacher and doctor.  I was in business once, but this is better.  As one footing fails, the Lord provides another.  The stream of life is black and angry; how so many of us get across without drowning, I often wonder.  The best way is not to look too far before—­just from one stepping-stone to another; and though you may wet your feet, He won’t let you drown—­He has not allowed me.’

And Doctor Bryerly held up his head, and wagged it resolutely.