Part 40 (2/2)
It came to him that perhaps, if he confided his present dilemma to his sisters, they might come to his rescue, and in the exigency of sudden frosts save at least a portion of his crops from loss. They were fond of Lucy. Sometimes he had even thought they guessed his secret and were desirous of helping on the romance. At least, he felt sure they would not oppose it, for they had always been eager that he should marry and leave an heir to inherit the Howe acreage; they had even gone so far as to urge it upon him as his patriotic duty. Moreover, they were very desirous of demolis.h.i.+ng the barrier that for so many years had estranged Howe and Webster.
The more he reflected on taking them into his confidence, the more desirable became the idea, and at length he decided that before he went to bed he would have a frank talk with the three women of his household and lay before them all his troubles. If he were to do this he must hasten, for Sefton Falls kept early hours.
When, however, he reached his own land, he found the lights in the house still burning, and he was surprised to see Jane, a shawl thrown over her head, coming to meet him.
”Martin!” she called, ”is that you?”
The words contained a disquieting echo of anxiety.
”Yes, what's the matter?”
”Oh, I'm so glad you've got back!” she exclaimed. ”I was just goin' over to the Websters' to find you. A telephone message has just come while you've been gone. Lucy----”
”Yes, yes,” interrupted Martin breathlessly.
”There's been an accident to the Boston train, an' they telephoned from the hospital at Ashbury that she'd been hurt. They wanted I should come down there!”
She saw Martin reel and put out his hand.
”Martin!” she cried, rus.h.i.+ng to his side.
”Is she much hurt? When did the message come?” panted the man.
”Just now,” Jane answered. ”The doctor said her arm was broken an' that she was pretty well shaken up an' bruised. He didn't send for me so much because she was in a serious condition as because her bag with all her money an' papers was lost, an' she was worryin' herself sick over being without a cent, poor child. He didn't tell her he'd sent for me. He just did it on his own responsibility. Oh, Martin, you will let me go an' bring her back here, won't you? Mary an' 'Liza an' I want to nurse her, ourselves. We can't bear to think of her bein' a charity patient in a hospital.”
Jane's voice trembled with earnestness.
”Yes, you shall go, Jane,” Martin answered quickly. ”We'll both go. I'll see right away if we can get Watford to take us in his touring car. We ought to make the distance in four hours in a high-power machine.”
”Mercy, you're not goin' to-night?”
”I certainly am.”
”But there's no need of that,” protested Jane. ”The doctor said Lucy was gettin' on finely, an' he hoped she'd quiet down an' get some sleep, which was what she needed most.”
”But I'd rather go now--right away,” Martin a.s.serted.
”'Twould do no good,” explained the practical Jane. ”We wouldn't get to Ashbury until the middle of the night, an' we couldn't see Lucy. You wouldn't want 'em to wake her up.”
”N--o.”
”It'll be much wiser to wait till mornin', Martin.”
”Perhaps it will.”
The brother and sister walked silently across the turf.
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