As she laid her hand on the door to open it, another hand grasped the handle on the other side, and a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow came in, with the glisten of rain still on his brown moustache, and on his great-coat, seeming to bring with him a breath of freshness and the night air.
'Ah, Dick! I was just coming down for you. Where is Roland?'
'He stayed awhile at Aspinshaw. How's father?'
'Awake, and asking for you,' said his aunt, and went away, closing the door softly.
'Well, dad, how goes it?' said the new-comer, stepping forward into the glow of the firelight.
'Light the candles,' said his father, without answering the question, and the young man lighted two in heavy silver candlesticks which stood on the dressing-table.
As their pale light fell on the white face lying against the hardly whiter pillow, Dick's eyes scrutinised it anxiously.
'You don't look any better,' he said, sitting down by the bed, and taking his father's hand. 'I wish I'd been at home when that doctor came yesterday.'
'I'm glad you weren't Dick; I'd rather tell you myself. I wish your brother were here.'
'I daresay he won't be long,' said the other, frowning a little, while the lines about his mouth grew hard and set; 'but what did the doctor say? Aunt Letitia didn't seem to know anything about it.'