"Let her fast a little," replied the doctor, coolly; "it will take some
of the unnecessary heat out of her blood. I'll fetch her her breakfast
to-morrow."
Mrs. Oleander upon this retired at once, and the doctor, after smoking
old Peter's pipe in the chimney-corner, retired also.
Then the old man hobbled upstairs to bed, and Sally, after raking out
the fire, and seeing to the secure fastening of doors and windows, took
up her tallow candle and went after him.
Outside the door of the poor little captive she paused, listening in a
sort of breathless awe. But no sound came forth: the tumult of wind, and
sea, and rain had the inky night all to themselves.
"She's asleep, I reckon," said old Sally, creeping away. "Poor little,
pretty creeter!"
But Mollie was not asleep. When the door had closed after Dr. Oleander,
she had dropped on the floor like a stone, and had never stirred since.
She was not in a faint. She saw the ruddy blaze of the fire, as the
tongues of flame leaped like red serpents up the chimney; she heard the
wild howling of the night wind, the ceaseless dash and fall of the rain,
the indescribable roar of the raging sea; she heard the trees creak and
toss and groan; she heard the rats scampering overhead; she heard the
dismal moaning of the old house itself rocking in the gale.
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