Mewks kept coming and going--watching her, and awaiting his opportunity.

Mr.Redmain scarcely heeded him, only once and again saying in sudden anger, "What can that idiot be about?
He might know by this time I'm not likely to want _him_ so long as _you_ are in the room!" And said Mary to herself: "Who knows what good the mere presence of one who trusts may be to him, even if he shouldn't seem to take much of what she says! Perhaps he may think of some of it after he is dead--who knows ?" Patiently she sat and waited, full of help that would have flowed in a torrent, but which she felt only trickle from her heart like a stream that is lost on the face of the rock down which it flows.
All at once she bethought herself, and looked at her watch: Joseph had been waiting for her more than an hour, and would not, she knew, if he stopped all night, go away without her! And for her, she could not forsake the poor man her presence seemed to comfort! He was now lying very still: she would slip out and send Joseph away, and be back before the patient or any one else should miss her! She went softly from the room, and glided down the stairs, and out of the house, seeing no one--but not unseen: hardly was she from the room, when the door of it was closed and locked behind her, and hardly from the house, when the house-door also was closed and locked behind her.
But she heard nothing, and ran, without the least foreboding of mishap, to the corner where Joseph was to meet her.
There he was, waiting as patiently as if the hour had not yet come.
"I can't leave him, Joseph.

My heart won't let me," she said.

"I can not go back before the morning.

I will look in upon you as I pass." So saying, and without giving him time to answer, she bade him good night, and ran back to the house, hoping to get in as before without being seen.