"Remember," he said, "that what I have told you of my wish to be of any possible use to you and your father holds good, even though I should be at the other side of the world. I shall write now and then to ask about you both. I can't tell you how I hope for your happiness--Georgiana." When he had gone she went to her room and dropped upon her knees beside her bed, her arms outflung upon the old blue and white counterpane. "O God," she whispered passionately, "how could You show it to me if I couldn't have it? How _could_ You?" CHAPTER XIX REVELATIONS Summer had gone at last, its fierce heat giving way to the cool, fresh days of an early autumn. August, September, October--the months had dragged interminably by, and now it was November, bleak and chill, with gray skies and penetrating winds and sudden deluges of rain. Georgiana, sweeping sodden leaves from a wet porch after an all-night storm, looked up to see the village telegraph messenger approaching. With her one dearest safe upon a couch within, and Stuart long since at home again, she could not fear bad news. She thought of Jeannette, who was always, in the absence of a telephone in the old manse, telegraphing her invitations and demands. She tore open the dispatch with a hope that it was from Jeannette, for she had sadly missed her letters. Jeannette, indeed, it was who had inspired the message, but its sender was her sister. Rosalie Crofton wired that Jeannette had been taken suddenly and violently ill while on a visit in New York and was to be operated upon at once; that she had begged Georgiana to come and to bring James Stuart with her; that Rosalie herself was dreadfully frightened and prayed Georgiana not to lose a train nor to fail to bring Stuart. Action was never slow with the receiver of this message; it had never been quicker than now. With one brief explanation to her father, she was off to find Stuart. Just at the dripping hedge she met him, his face tense with the shock it was plain he had received. At sight of her he drew a yellow paper from his pocket. "You've heard?" he cried. "Yes; this very minute." "There's only an hour to catch the ten-ten. You'll go?" "Of course. I was coming to tell you. I'll be ready." She turned again and ran back. There was much to do in the allotted hour, but with the help of Mrs. Perkins she accomplished it. When she and Stuart were in the train, sitting side by side in the ordinary coach of the traveler who must conserve his resources, as Georgiana had decreed, Stuart spoke the first word of comment upon the situation. "Of course, there was nothing to do but go," he said, "after that telegram." "Of course not," agreed Georgiana simply. "She was perfectly well--last week," said Stuart. "Was she? You know I haven't seen her since they came back." "She said she had tried every way to get you there." "She has. I was going--when I could. You know father hasn't been as well since they came back in September."