She wondered if her father would miss her, if he would grow restless and anxious; but nevertheless she was determined to enjoy her pleasure. Still, where was he now? She glanced at the fire in the big grate; she ventured to put on some more coals and to tidy up the hearth; then she drew down the blinds of the windows, pulled her father’s armchair in front of the fire, sat down herself by the hearth, and waited. She waited for over half an hour. During that time the warmth of the fire made her drowsy. She found herself nodding. Suddenly she sat up wide awake. A queer sense of uneasiness stole over her; she must go and seek her father. Where could he be? How she longed to call Jasper to her aid! But that, she knew, would be impossible. She wrapped a threadbare cloak, which hung on a peg in the hall, round her shoulders, slipped her feet into goloshes, and set out into the wintry night. She had not gone a dozen yards before she saw the object of her search. Mr. Leeson was lying full length on the snow; he was not moving. Sylvia had a wild horror that he was dead; she bent over him.
“Father! father!” she cried.
There was no answer. She touched his face with her lips; it was icy cold. Oh, was he dead? Oh, terror! oh, horror! All her accustomed prudence flew to the winds. Get succor for him at once she must. She dashed into the kitchen. Jasper was standing by the fire.
“Come at once, Jasper!” she said. “Bring brandy, and come at once.”
“What has happened, my darling?”
“Come at once and you will see. Bring brandy—brandy.”
Jasper in an emergency was all that was admirable. She followed Sylvia out into the snow, and between them they dragged Mr. Leeson back to the house.
“Now, dear,” said Jasper, “I will give him the brandy, and I’ll stand behind him. When he comes to I will slip out of the room. Oh, the poor gentleman! He is as cold as ice. Hold that blanket and warm it, will you, Sylvia? We must put it round him. Oh, bless you, child! heap some coals on the fire. What matter the expense? There! you cannot lift that great hod; I’ll do it.”
Jasper piled coals on the grate; the fire crackled and blazed merrily. Mr. Leeson lay like one dead.
“He is dead—he is dead!” gasped Sylvia.