"You cannot go away to-day."

"Why?" inquired the young lady.

"Don't talk! Listen! Your grandfather is ill--very ill. Old John has just come from Rockhold to tell me."

"Oh! I am very sorry."

"No time for words! Go put on your bonnet, and come along with me; the carriage that was to have taken me to North End must take us both to Rockhold. Hurry, Cora."

"But Violet?"

"I will go and tell Violet that the grandfather is not feeling very well, and has sent for you. I can do this while you are getting ready to go. Then come into the nursery and bid Violet good-by."

Corona hurried up to her room, and quickly put on her bonnet and fur-lined cloak, and then ran into the nursery, where she found Violet nursing her baby, looking serious but composed, and evidently unconscious of old Aaron Rockharrt's danger. Mr. Fabian was standing at the back of her chair, so that she might not read the truth in his face.

"So you are going home so suddenly, Cora, dear? I am so sorry the father is not feeling well that I cannot even ask you to stay here a moment longer. Give my love to the father, and tell him if he does not get better in a day or two I shall be sure to come and nurse him."

She could not rise without disturbing her precious baby, but she raised her head and put up her lips, that Cora might kiss her good-by. Then Cora followed her uncle down stairs, and in five minutes more they were seated in the carriage, slowly winding their way down the dangerous mountain pa.s.s to the river road that led to Rockhold.

"Uncle Fabian," said Corona, gravely, "I have been trying to think what is right for me to do. This sorrowful news took me so completely by surprise, and your directions were so prompt and peremptory, that I had not a moment for reflection; so that I followed your lead automatically.

But now, Uncle Fabian, I have considered, and I ask you as I have asked myself--am I right in going back to Rockhold, after my grandfather has sent me away, and forbidden me ever to return? Tell me, Uncle Fabian."

"My dear, what do you yourself wish to do?" he inquired.

"To return to Rockhold and nurse my grandfather, if he will allow me to do so."

"Then by all means do so."

"But, Uncle Fabian--against my grandfather's express command?"

"Good Heaven, girl!" Those 'commands' were issued by a well and angry man. You are returning to minister to an ill and perhaps a dying one."

"Still, Uncle Fabian, would it not seem to be taking advantage of my grandfather's helpless state to return now, after he had forbidden me to enter his house? I think it would. And the more I reflect upon the subject, the surer I feel that I ought not to enter Rockhold unbidden.

And--I will not."

"You will not! What! Can you show resentment to your stricken--it may be dying--grandfather?"

"Heaven forbid! But I must not disobey his injunction, now that he is too helpless to prevent me. No, Uncle Fabian, I must not enter the house. But neither will I be far from it. I will remain within call."

"Where?"

"At the ferryman's cottage. Will you, Uncle Fabian, as soon as you have an opportunity, say that I am deeply grieved for all that has estranged us. Will you ask him to forgive me and let me come to him?"

"Yes; I will do so, my dear, if there is an opportunity. But, Cora, I think you are morbidly scrupulous. I think that you should come to the house. He may wish to see you if he should have a lucid interval, and there may not be time to send for you."

"I must risk that rather than disobey him in his extremity."

"As you will," replied Mr. Fabian. And no more was said on the subject.

When they reached the foot of the mountain and the level of the river road, the horses were put upon their speed, and they soon arrived at Rockhold.

"I will wait in the carriage until you go in and inquire how he is,"

said Corona, as the vehicle drew up before the front door.

Mr. Fabian got out and hurried up the steps. The door stood open, cold as the day was, and all things wore the neglected aspect of a dwelling wherein the master lay stricken unto death. The housekeeper, Martha, was coming down the stairs and crying.

"How is your master?" breathlessly inquired Mr. Fabian.

"Oh, Ma.r.s.e Fabe, sir, jes' livin', an' dat's all!" sobbed the woman.

"Dunno nuffin. Layin' dere jes' like a dead corpe, 'cept for breavin'

hard," wept the woman.

"Who is with him?"

"Me mos' times an' young Mark. I jes' come down to speak 'long o' you, Ma.r.s.e Fabe, w'en I see de carriage dribe up."

"Well, go back to your master. I will speak to my niece, and then come in," said Mr. Fabian, as he hurried out to the carriage. All his interview with the housekeeper had not occupied two minutes, but Cora was pale with suspense and anxiety.

"How is he?" she panted.

"Unconscious, my poor girl. Oh, Cora! come in!"

"No, no; I must not. Not until he permits me. I will stop at the ferryman's cottage. Oh, if he should recover consciousness--oh, Uncle Fabian, ask him to let me come to him, and send me word."

"Yes, yes; I will do it. I must go to him now. Charles," he said, turning to the coachman, "drive Mrs. Rothsay down to the ferry house, and then take the carriage to the stables."

And then, with a grave nod to Corona, Mr. Fabian re-entered the house.

The coachman drove the carriage down to the ferryman's cottage and drew up. The door was open and the cottage was empty.

"Boat on t'other side, ma'am," said Charles.

"For the doctor, I suppose--and hope," said Corona, looking across the river, and seeing a gig with two men coming on to the ferryboat.

She watched from the door of the ferryman's cottage while Charles drove off the empty carriage toward the stables and the two ferrymen poled their boat across the river. She retreated within the house before the boat touched the land, for she knew that the doctor, if he should see her there, would wonder why she was not at her grandfather's bedside, and perhaps--as he was an old friend--he might ask questions which she would find it embarra.s.sing to answer. The boat touched the sh.o.r.e; the gig, containing the doctor and Mr. Clarence, rolled off the boat on along the drive leading to the house.

Meanwhile Mr. Fabian had re-entered the hall and hurried up to his father's room. He found the Iron King in bed, lying on his right side and breathing heavily. His eyes were half closed.

"Father," said the son, in a low voice, taking his hand and bending over him.

There was no response.

"It ain't no use, Marster Fabe. Yer can't rouse him, do wot yer will.

Better wait till de doctor come, young ma.r.s.e. I done been tried all I knowed how, but it wa'n't no use," said Martha, who stood on the other side of the bed watching her insensible master.

"Tell me when this happened. Come away to the upper end of the room and tell me about it."

"Might's well tell yer right here, ma.r.s.e. 'Twon't sturve him. Lor!

thunder wouldn't sturve him, the way he is in."