out Minden Cottage as we came in sight of it; and at first, noting
that all the blinds were drawn, I thought the household must be
asleep. Then I remembered, and shivered as I rose from my seat,
cramped and stiff from the long journey, and so numb that Jim the
guard had to lift me down to the porch. Miss Plinlimmon, red-eyed
and tremulous, opened the door to me, embraced me, and led me to the
little parlour.

"Is--is my father dead?" I asked, staring vacantly around the room,
and upon the table where she had set out a breakfast. She bent over
the urn for a moment, and then, coming to me, took my hand and drew
me to the sofa.

"You must be brave, Harry."

"But what has happened? And how did it happen? Was--was it sudden?
Please tell me, Plinny!"

She stroked my hand and shivered slightly, turning her face away
towards the window.

"We found him in the summer-house, dear. He was lying face downward,
across the step of the doorway, and at first we supposed he had
fallen forward in a fit. Ann made the discovery, and came running to
me in the kitchen, when she had only time to cry out the news before
she was overtaken with hysterics. I left her to them," went on Miss
Plinlimmon, simply, "and ran out to the summer-house, when by-and-by,
having pulled herself together, she followed me. By this time it had
fallen dusk--nay, it was almost dark, which accounts for one not
seeing at once what dreadful thing had happened. Your poor father,
Harry--as you know--used often to sit in the summer-house until quite
a late hour, but he had never before dallied quite so late, and in
the end I had sent Ann out to remind him that supper was waiting.
Well, as you may suppose, he was heavy to lift; and we two women
being alone in the house, I told Ann to run up to the vicarage or to
Miss Belcher's, and get word sent for a doctor, and also to bring a
couple of men, if possible, to carry him into the house. I had
scarcely bidden her to do this when she cried out, screaming, that
her hand was damp, and with blood. 'You silly woman!' said I, though
trembling myself from head to foot. But when we fetched a candle, we
saw blood running down the step, and your father--my poor Harry!--
lying in a pool of it--a veritable pool of it. Ah, Harry, Harry!"
exclaimed Miss Plinlimmon, relapsing into that literary manner which
was second nature with her, "such a moment occurring in the pages of
fiction, may stimulate a sympathetic thrill n