And then, both of them uplifted, gladdened, both of them believing it could be done, loving each other more than they had ever done before, newly assured of the power of love, they would go back and with firm faith and deep joy begin the work which lay before them. She turned to walk back to the house. She would send a telegram to Dr. Parkman that Karl must come. Perhaps he could be here to-night;--to-morrow, surely. Dear Karl--who needed a vacation more than he? Who needed the rejuvenation of the spring as Karl needed it? She had walked but a little way when she stopped. Someone was coming toward her, walking fast. Had the sun grown a little dim--or was something passing before her eyes? The world seemed to darken. She looked again at Mrs. Rolfe, coming toward her. How strange that she shivered! Was it a little chilly up here on the hill-top where a minute before it had been so soft and warm? She wanted to go to meet Mrs. Rolfe, but she did not; she stood strangely still, waiting. And why was it that the figure of Mrs. Rolfe was such a blur on the beauty of the hillside? But when at last she saw her face she did run to meet her. "What is the matter?"--her voice was quick and sharp. The woman hesitated. "Tell me!" demanded Ernestine. "I will not be treated like that!" "Dr. Parkman wants you to come home," the woman said, not looking Ernestine in the face. "Why?--Karl?"--she caught roughly at the other woman's arm. She knew then that she could not temporise nor modify. "Dr. Hubers was taken sick yesterday. He was to have an operation. The telegram should have been delivered last night." She thought Ernestine was going to fall--she swayed so, her face went so colourless, her hands so cold. But she did not fall. "That--is all you know?"--it came in hoarse, broken whisper. And when the woman answered, yes, Ernestine started, running, for the house. CHAPTER XXXV "OH, HURRY--_HURRY!_" That train!--She would go mad if it kept stopping like that. She kept leaning forward in her seat, every muscle tense, fairly pushing the train on with every nerve that was in her. Never once did she relax--on--on--it must go on! She would _make_ it go faster! When it stopped she clenched her hands, her nails digging into the flesh--and then when it started again that same feeling that she, from within herself, must push it on. At times she looked from the window. Now this field was past--they were so much nearer. Soon they would be over there where the track curved--that was a long way ahead. They were going faster now. She would lean forward again--pushing on, trying through the straining of her own nerves to make the train go faster.