His grey hair was scattered over his forehead, instead of being smoothly brushed back; and the long, loose coat, which hung carelessly around his shrivelled form and stooping shoulders, made him look far older than he did in the day-time.

As Stephen's eyes rested upon the sunken form and quaking limbs of the aged man, he felt, for the first time, how helpless and infirm his enemy was, instead of the rich, full, and prospering master he had always considered him.
'Keep off!' cried the old miser, as he caught sight of Stephen on the threshold; and he raised his withered arm as if to ward him from his treasures.

'Keep off! Stephen Fern, is it you?
You've come to take your revenge.

The robbers and murderers have got in! O God, have pity upon me!' 'I'm come to take care of Miss Anne,' said Stephen, 'They've not got in yet, master.

And, please God, help will be here afore long with Martha.
The doors and windows are safe.' 'Anne, take him away!' implored Mr.Wyley.