The October air was chill and penetrating. There was a dull aching in Violet's limbs from the weight of her burden, but she was hardly conscious of physical pain. It seemed to her that she had been sitting there for hours waiting for the doctor's help. She thought the night must have nearly worn itself out. "Dr. Martin could not have been at home," she said, speaking for the first time since Roderick rode away. "Mr. Vawdrey would fetch someone else, surely." "My dear young lady, he hasn't had time to ride to Lyndhurst yet." "Not yet," cried Vixen despairingly, "not yet! And it has been so long. Papa is getting so cold. The chill will be so bad for him." "Worse for you, miss. I do wish you'd let me take you home." "And leave papa here--alone--unconscious! How can you be so cruel as to think of such a thing?" "Dear Miss Tempest, we're not doing him any good, and you may be getting a chill that will be nigh your death. If you would only go home to your mamma, now--it's hard upon her not to know--she'll be fretting about you, I daresay." "Don't waste your breath talking to me," cried Vixen indignantly; "I shall not leave this spot till papa goes with me." They waited for another quarter of an hour in dismal silence. The horses gnawed the lower branches of the trees, and gave occasional evidence of their impatience. Bullfinch had gone home to his stable no doubt. They were only about a mile-and-a-half from the Abbey House. Hark! what was that? The splish-splash of horses' hoofs on the soft turf. Another minute and Rorie rode up to the gate with a stranger. "I was lucky enough to meet this gentleman," he said, "a doctor from Southampton, who was at the hunt to-day. Violet dear, will you let me take you home now, and leave the doctor and Mr. Wimble with your father?" "No," answered Vixen decisively. The strange doctor knelt down and looked at his patient. He was a middle-aged man, grave-looking, with iron-gray hair--a man who impressed Vixen with a sense of power and authority. She looked at him silently, with a despairing appealing look that thrilled him, familiar as he was with such looks. He made his examination quietly, saying not a word, and keeping his face hidden. Then he turned to the two men who were standing close by, watching him anxiously. "You must get some kind of litter to carry him home," he whispered. And then with gentle firmness, with strong irresistible hands, he separated the living from the dead, lifted Violet from the ground and led her towards her horse. "You must let Mr. Vawdrey take you home, my dear young lady," he said. "You can do nothing here." "But you--you can do something," sobbed Violet, "you will bring him back to life--you----" "I will do all that can be done," answered the doctor gently.