Just at this moment there came a quick ring at the door, and a servant soon entered, bringing a message to the Doctor. A sailor, just off the sea, was thought to be dying of fever at the hospital, and had sent for him.
Dr. Annesley did not hesitate for an instant to leave the comfort and pleasant talk he was enjoying, to go where duty called him through the tempestuous night, and not one of his loving family thought of murmuring or remonstrating. He did not return until morning, and then he brought some one with him, wrapped in shawls and blankets--his patient--whom he lifted carefully from the carriage in his strong arms, carried gently into the house and laid on a bed, in a room which had long been unoccupied, but which Mrs. Annesley, at her husband's request, had prepared for an invalid inmate, that very morning.
About half an hour after this arrival, Dr. Annesley entered his father's chamber. He found the good old man sitting by his window, reading over the Psalms, in a low, fervent tone. He was so absorbed that he did not notice the approach of his son, till a hand was laid gently on his shoulder.
"Why bless me, Hugh," he exclaimed, "how you startled me! pray what brings you here so early?"
"Unusual business, dear father," replied the Doctor, "I have something of much moment to tell you. Do you think you can bear it?"
"I will try," answered the old man bracing himself, yet trembling visibly.
"Well, father, the young sailor whom I was called to see last night, was--"
"Oh, I know! I know! my poor, lost boy! my Philip!" cried Sir Hugh, covering his pale face with his hands. "Is he dead?"
"No, dear father, and he may possibly recover. He is very penitent and sorrowful. He says he would have written to you long ago, if he had dared--that he was on the way home when he was taken ill--coming to entreat your forgiveness, and that if you will grant it to him now, he can die content."
"And he shall have it!" cried Sir Hugh, "for I too often erred through over-indulgence, and sometimes through over-severity. I will go to him at once. Get me my cloak, my hat!"
"You will not need them," said the Doctor, smiling; "Philip is in his old room."
When the father and brother reached the bedside of the young sailor, they found that he had fallen asleep. He looked very ill; his sun-burnt face had grown almost fair in his long sickness--his sunken cheeks were slightly flushed with fever, and his long hair was scattered in disorder over the pillow.