When she arrived at home, what was her astonishment to find there the daughter of the house, which, even in their alienation, she had never ceased to love, in a state little short of distraction, and tended by Tyrrel, whose state of mind seemed scarce more composed than that of the unhappy patient.

The oddities of Mrs.
Dods were merely the rust which had accumulated upon her character, but without impairing its native strength and energy; and her sympathies were not of a kind acute enough to disable her from thinking and acting as decisively as circumstances required.
"Mr.Tyrrel," she said, "this is nae sight for men folk--ye maun rise and gang to another room." "I will not stir from her," said Tyrrel--"I will not remove from her either now, or as long as she or I may live." "That will be nae lang space, Maister Tyrrel, if ye winna be ruled by common sense." Tyrrel started up, as if half comprehending what she said, but remained motionless.
"Come, come," said the compassionate landlady; "do not stand looking on a sight sair enough to break a harder heart than yours, hinny--your ain sense tells ye, ye canna stay here--Miss Clara shall be weel cared for, and I'll bring word to your room-door frae half-hour to half-hour how she is." The necessity of the case was undeniable, and Tyrrel suffered himself to be led to another apartment, leaving Miss Mowbray to the care of the hostess and her female assistants.

He counted the hours in an agony, less by the watch than by the visits which Mrs.Dods, faithful to her promise, made from interval to interval, to tell him that Clara was not better--that she was worse--and, at last, that she did not think she could live over morning.

It required all the deprecatory influence of the good landlady to restrain Tyrrel, who, calm and cold on common occasions, was proportionally fierce and impetuous when his passions were afloat, from bursting into the room, and ascertaining, with his own eyes, the state of the beloved patient.

At length there was a long interval--an interval of hours--so long, indeed, that Tyrrel caught from it the flattering hope that Clara slept, and that sleep might bring refreshment both to mind and body.