He must leave Portlossie.
His mind went on brooding, speculating, devising. The evening sunk
into the night, but he never knew he was in the dark until the
housekeeper brought him a light. After a cup of tea, his thoughts
found pleasanter paths. One thing was certain: he must lay himself
out, as he had never done before, to make Duncan MacPhail happy.
With this one thing clear to both heart and mind, he fell fast
asleep.
CHAPTER XLIII: THE WIZARD'S CHAMBER
He woke in the dark, with that strange feeling of bewilderment
which accompanies the consciousness of having been waked: is it that
the brain wakes before the mind, and like a servant unexpectedly
summoned, does not know what to do with its master from home? or
is it that the master wakes first, and the servant is too sleepy
to answer his call? Quickly coming to himself, however, he sought
the cause of the perturbation now slowly ebbing. But the dark into
which he stared could tell nothing; therefore he abandoned his eyes,
took his station in his ears, and thence sent out his messengers.
But neither, for some moments, could the scouts of hearing come
upon any sign.
At length, something seemed doubtfully to touch the sense-the
faintest suspicion of a noise in the next room--the wizard's
chamber: it was enough to set Malcolm on the floor.
Forgetting his wounded foot and lighting upon it, the agony it
caused him dropped him at once on his hands and knees, and in this
posture he crept into the passage.
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