The next moment there was the clatter of horses’ feet outside, and a man riding one horse and leading another dashed up in the yard at a gallop and gave a shout:
“Aw—Dr. Cary.”
Mrs. Cary’s countenance fell. The Doctor’s face, which had just before been expressive of extreme fatigue, suddenly took on a new expression.
“You cannot go; it is impossible,” declared Mrs. Cary. The Doctor did not answer. He was listening to the conversation going on outside between the messenger and Mammy Krenda.
“Leech!” exclaimed Mrs. Cary, and sprang to the door. “He says that Leech is dying.” A light almost of joy had come into her face. The Doctor rose and passed out of the door by her.
“What’s that? What is the matter?” he asked. His face was as calm as a statue’s!
Mrs. Cary reported what she had heard: “Leech was ill—had been taken with violent cramp, and was having fit after fit. He was supposed to be dying. He was at Birdwood.”
“You cannot go; you are worn out,” urged Mrs. Cary, imploringly as the Doctor straightened himself.
“I must go,” said the Doctor. He turned back to get his saddle-bags.