"All right, sir," Bennett responded, starting in the direction of the
stables, while Darrell went back into his room. Opening the note, he
read the following: "MY DEAR JOHN: I am in trouble and look to you as to a son. David
has had a paralytic stroke; was brought home helpless about five
o'clock. I am alone, as you might say, as there is none of the
family here. Will you come at once?
Yours in sorrow, but with love,
MARCIA DEAN."
Darrell's face grew thoughtful as he refolded the missive. He glanced
regretfully at his notes and manuscript, then carefully gathered them
together and locked them in his desk, little thinking that months would
pass ere he would again resume the work thus interrupted. Then only
stopping long enough to write a few lines of explanation to Hathaway,
the superintendent, he seized his fur coat, cap, and gloves, and
hastened over to the boarding-house where a lunch was already awaiting
him. Half an hour later he and Bennett were riding rapidly down the
road, Duke bounding on ahead.
They reached The Pines between four and five o'clock. Darrell, leaving
the horses in Bennett's care, went directly to the house. Before he
could reach the door it was opened by Mrs. Dean.
"I ought not to have sent for you on such a night as this!" she
exclaimed, as Darrell entered the room, his clothes glistening with
frost, the broad collar turned up about his face a mass of icicles from
his frozen breath; "but I felt as though I didn't know what to do, and I
wanted some one here who did. I was afraid to take the responsibility
any longer."
"You did just right," Darrell answered, dashing away the ice from his
face; "I only wish you had sent for me earlier--as soon as this
happened. How is Mr. Underwood?"
"He is in pretty bad shape, but the doctors think he will pull through.
They have been working over him all night, and he is getting so he can
move the right hand a little, but the other side seems badly paralyzed."
"Is he conscious?"
"Yes, he moves his hand when we speak to him, but he looks so worried.
That was one reason why I sent for you; I thought he would feel easier
to know you were here."
As Darrell approached the bedside he was shocked at the changes wrought
in so short a time in the stern, but genial face. It had aged twenty
years, and the features, partially drawn to one side, had, as Mrs. Dean
remarked, a strained, worried expression. The eyes of the sick man
brightened for an instant as Darrell bent over him, assuring him that he
would attend to everything, but the anxious look still remained.
"I don't know anything about David's business affairs," Mrs. Dean
remarked, as she and Darrell left the room, "but I know as well as I
want to that this was brought on by some business trouble. I am
satisfied something was wrong at the office yesterday, though I wouldn't
say so to any one but you."