"Sir, I am with you," said Doctor Portsoaken. "I will tell you what I know,
in the sure belief (for I will be frank with you) that it will add to the
amount of dangerous folly now in your mind, and help you on the way to
ruin. Take your choice, therefore, whether to know me further or not."

"I neither shrink nor fear,--neither hope much," said Septimius, quietly.
"Anything that you can communicate--if anything you can--I shall
fearlessly receive, and return you such thanks as it may be found to
deserve."

So saying, he led the way down the hill, by the steep path that descended
abruptly upon the rear of his bare and unadorned little dwelling; the
doctor following with much foul language (for he had a terrible habit of
swearing) at the difficulties of the way, to which his short legs were ill
adapted. Aunt Keziah met them at the door, and looked sharply at the
doctor, who returned the gaze with at least as much keenness, muttering
between his teeth, as he did so; and to say the truth, Aunt Keziah was as
worthy of being sworn at as any woman could well be, for whatever she
might have been in her younger days, she was at this time as strange a
mixture of an Indian squaw and herb doctress, with the crabbed old maid,
and a mingling of the witch-aspect running through all as could well be
imagined; and she had a handkerchief over her head, and she was of hue a
dusky yellow, and she looked very cross. As Septimius ushered the doctor
into his study, and was about to follow him, Aunt Keziah drew him back.

"Septimius, who is this you have brought here?" asked she.

"A man I have met on the hill," answered her nephew; "a Doctor Portsoaken
he calls himself, from the old country. He says he has knowledge of herbs
and other mysteries; in your own line, it may be. If you want to talk with