'Not so. The first train that goes there does not start for an hour yet, and I can get to Paddington in half of one. The news has grieved me much. The last time I was at Ketterford--you may remember it--Mrs. Thornimett was so very well, exhibiting no symptoms whatever of decay.' 'I remember it,' answered Florence. 'It is two years ago. You stayed a whole fortnight with her.' 'And had a battle with her to get away then,' said Austin, smiling with the reminiscence, or with Florence's word 'whole'--a suggestive word, spoken in that sense. 'She wished me to remain longer. I wonder what illness can have stricken her? It must have been sudden.' 'What is the relationship between you?' 'A distant one. She and my mother were second cousins. If I----' Austin was stopped by the entrance of Mr. Hunter. _So_ changed, _so_ bent and bowed, since you, reader, last saw him! The stout, upright figure had grown thin and stooping, the fine dark hair was grey, the once calm, self-reliant face was worn and haggard. Nor was that all; there was a constant _restlessness_ in his manner and in the turn of his eye, giving a spectator the idea that he lived in a state of ever-present, perpetual fear. Austin put the telegraphic message in his hand. 'It is an inconvenient time, I know, sir, for me to be away, busy as we are, and with this agitation rising amongst the men; but I cannot help myself. I will return as soon as it is possible.' Mr. Hunter did not hear the words. His eyes had fallen on the word 'Ketterford,' in the despatch, and that seemed to scare away his senses. His hands shook as he held the paper, and for a few moments he appeared incapable of collected thought, of understanding anything. Austin exclaimed again. 'Oh, yes, yes, it is only--it is Mrs. Thornimett who is ill, and wants you--I comprehend now.' He spoke in an incoherent manner, and with a sigh of the most intense relief. 'I--I--saw the word "dying," and it startled me,' he proceeded, as if anxious to account for his agitation. 'You can go, Austin; you must go. Remain a few days there--a week, if you find it necessary.' 'Thank you, sir. I will say farewell now, then.' He shook hands with Mr. Hunter, turned to Florence, and took hers. 'Remember me to Mrs. Hunter,' he said in a low tone, which, in spite of himself, betrayed its own tenderness, 'and tell her I hope to find her better on my return.' A few paces from the house, as he went out, Austin encountered Dr. Bevary. 'Is she much worse?' he exclaimed to Austin, in a hasty tone. 'Is who much worse, doctor?' 'Mrs. Hunter. I have just had a message from her.' 'Not very much, I fancy. Florence said her mamma was poorly this evening. I am off to Ketterford, doctor, for a few days.' 'To Ketterford!' replied Dr. Bevary, with an emphasis that showed the news had startled him. 'What are you going there for? For--for Mr. Hunter?' 'For myself,' said Austin. 'A good old friend is ill--dying, the message says--and has telegraphed for me.'