“—But I believe, if he were to die to-morrow, he would not leave behind him one heart to ache for him.”
Just then the door opened, and Dad Davy presented a solemn, scared face.
“Marse Colonel,” he said, “dee done sont dat white man, Dodson, f’um Shrewsbury, an’ he say Mr. Romaine mighty sick an’ dee ’feerd he gwine die, and he want Madame Fireblock—or whatever she name—ter come right away. Dee got a kerridge and hosses out d’yar and de white man k’yarn leave ’em.”
A sudden chill and silence fell upon them all at this. Mr. Romaine must indeed be dying if he sent for Madame de Fonblanque.
So terrible and so piteous is death that every one of them, who a moment before had been discussing the dying man with severity, felt that he or she would do much to save him. Even Madame de Fonblanque turned pale.
“Of course, I will go,” she said, “perhaps he wants my forgiveness—or to repair the injury he has done me.”
She went hastily up-stairs, Letty with her, to put on her wraps to go to the house from which only a few hours before she had been ignominiously shown. The Colonel would by no means allow her to go alone, and when she came down, she found him with his great-coat on, and a large pair of “gambadoes” strapped around his legs to protect his trousers, in case he should have to get out on the road in the snow and slush. In a few moments, they were on their way in the bitter night toward Shrewsbury, the Colonel’s saddle horse following the carriage.
Letty and Farebrother and Miss Jemima, sitting in the library, determined to wait until midnight, certainly, for some news of the dying man or the Colonel’s return. In spite of the happiness of the lovers, there was a cloud upon Farebrother and Letty. Not a word was said about Mr. Romaine’s will. All of them were more or less skeptical about it, but still his death was deeply impressive to them. At one o’clock, they were still sitting there, talking gravely, when they heard the returning carriage, and presently the Colonel stalked solemnly in, and Madame de Fonblanque in much agitation with him.
XII
