"Ah, Mr. Darrell," the man cried, as the door opened, "it's a good thing that you keep late hours; right glad I was to see the light in your window, I can tell you, sir!"
"But, Bennett, what brings you here at this time of night?" Darrell asked, hastily.
"Mrs. Dean sent me, sir. Mr. Underwood, he's had a stroke and is as helpless as a baby, sir, and Mrs. Dean's alone, excepting for us servants. She sent me for you, sir; here's a note from her, and she said you was to ride right back with me, if you would, sir."
"Certainly, I'll go with you," Darrell answered, taking the note; "but that horse must not stand in the cold another minute. Ride right over into the stables yonder; wake up the stable-men and tell them to rub him down and blanket him at once, and then to saddle Trix and Rob Roy as quickly as they can. And while they're looking after the horses, you go over to the boarding-house and wake up the cook and tell him to get us up a good, substantial hand-out; we'll need it before morning. I'll be ready in a few minutes, and I'll meet you over there."
"All right, sir," Bennett responded, starting in the direction of the stables, while Darrell went back into his room. Opening the note, he read the following:
| "My dear John: I am in trouble and look |
| to you as to a son. David has had a paralytic |
| stroke; was brought home helpless about five |
| o'clock. I am alone, as you might say, as there is |
| none of the family here. Will you come at |
| once? |
| Yours in sorrow, but with love, |
| Marcia Dean." |
Darrell's face grew thoughtful as he refolded the missive. He glanced regretfully at his notes and manuscript, then carefully gathered them together and locked them in his desk, little thinking that months would pass ere he would again resume the work thus interrupted. Then only stopping long enough to write a few lines of explanation to Hathaway, the superintendent, he seized his fur coat, cap, and gloves, and hastened over to the boarding-house where a lunch was already awaiting him. Half an hour later he and Bennett were riding rapidly down the road, Duke bounding on ahead.
They reached The Pines between four and five o'clock. Darrell, leaving the horses in Bennett's care, went directly to the house. Before he could reach the door it was opened by Mrs. Dean.
"I ought not to have sent for you on such a night as this!" she exclaimed, as Darrell entered the room, his clothes glistening with frost, the broad collar turned up about his face a mass of icicles from his frozen breath; "but I felt as though I didn't know what to do, and I wanted some one here who did. I was afraid to take the responsibility any longer."