Edward took the letter and read it carefully through, turning very pale as he did so. It was from his sister Louise, and contained a brief account of the dangerous illness of his mother, with a request for his immediate presence at home. His extreme paleness and the trembling hand, with which he in silence offered the open sheet for the Doctor's persual were all the outward sign of his soul's agony; agony for a beloved and dying mother; agony for the beloved, lost one, for whom, in company with a few friends, he was about to go in quest.
While the Doctor was running over the communication, Edward tried to calm the surging tempest within, sufficiently to decide him how to act.
"Doctor," said he, "I must go to mother, can you, I know it will be difficult, but can you take my place in the company to-morrow?"
"I will go, and, by the love I bear your sister, I promise to do what I can."
"Let me hear from you by mail," said Edward, wringing his hand.
Edward had now barely time to return to Pendleton, and hastily get his trunk in readiness for the forthcoming steamer.
At the sound of the bell he was ready to embark and a few days rapid travelling brought him worn and weary to the old homestead. It was evening when he arrived, and, as he approached the house, he saw a light in his mother's room. His apprehensions were so great that he had not the courage to enter, and, listening near the window, he distinguished his mother's voice in conversation with Louise.
"I would not be surprised to see him this very evening," he heard his sister say.
"Miss Louise," called out Recta's familiar voice. "Miss Louise, won't you please come here quick. Old Spot has got into the front yard; there she is nibbling at that rose bush under the window. I can't see nothing but the white spot in her face; but I know it must be her, she's such an unruly critter; won't you just hold the light while I hist her out?"
"O where's Lilly Foot," said Louise, "she'll drive her out while you open the gate. Here, Lilly Foot."