They were shown at once to his chamber, where they found him reclining on a lounge near the open window.
“You have been sitting out on the piazza this morning, I hear,” said the doctor, after the first greetings were over.
“Yes, for two hours,” replied Hereward.
“Too long for a first effort. You have overtasked yourself.”
“No, it is not that, doctor. Please lock the door, to prevent interruption, and draw your chairs up to me, both of you. I have some strange news to communicate, which I received this morning,” said Hereward, in some nervous trepidation.
“Yes! and that is just what has excited and exhausted you,” said Dr. Kerr, as he complied with Hereward’s request, sat down beside him and felt his pulse.
“And yet it was good news, if I can judge by the expression of your face, Tudor,” put in the rector, wondering, meanwhile, what good news could possibly have come to this awfully bereaved man.
“Yes, it was good news, if true; and there lies the great anxiety,” replied Hereward.
And then to these two oldest of old friends and neighbors, the pastor of the parish and the physician of the family, Tudor Hereward told the story that had been told him by old Adah.
The two gentlemen were not so much amazed as the narrator had expected them to be, yet they were most profoundly interested.