"You oughtn't to be out without anything on," said he "you're fixing to take your death."
He had good reason to say so. But she gave him no more heed than the wind.
"What are you waiting here for? What do you want?"
"I have nothing better to do with my time," said he; "I thought I'd walk up and down here a little. You go in!"
"Are you waiting to see uncle Rolf?" she said, with teeth chattering.
"You mustn't stay out here," said he, earnestly; "you're like nothing but a spook this minute I'd rather see one, or a hull army of 'em. Go in, go in!"
"I thought I'd see if he was coming home to-night I had a word to say if I could catch him before he got into the house."
"_Is_ he coming home to-night?" said Fleda.
"I don't know!" said he, looking at her. "Do you!"
Fleda burst open the gate between them, and putting her hands on his, implored him to tell her what was the matter. He looked singularly disturbed; his fine eye twinkled with compassion; but his face, never a weak one, showed no signs of yielding now.
"The matter is," said he, pressing hard both her hands, "that you are fixing to be down sick in your bed by to-morrow. You mustn't stay another second."
"There is nothing I can tell you maybe there'll be nothing to tell run in, run in, and keep quiet."
Fleda hurried back to the house, feeling that she had gone to the limit of risk already. Not daring to show herself to Hugh in her chilled state of body and mind, she went into the kitchen.
"Why, what on earth's come over you!" was Barby's terrified ejaculation, when she saw her.
"Cold!" said Barby "you're looking dreadful! What on earth ails you, Fleda?"
"Don't ask me, Barby," said Fleda, hiding her face in her hands, and shivering; "I made myself very cold just now Aunt Lucy doesn't feel very well, and I got frightened," she added, presently.
"I don't know if you'll make me a cup of tea, I'll take it up to her, Barby."
"You put yourself down there," said Barby, placing her with gentle force in a chair; "you'll do no such a thing till I see you look as if there was some blood in you. I'll take it up myself."
But Fleda held her, though with a hand much too feeble indeed for any but moral suasion. It was enough. Barby stood silently, and very anxiously watching her, till the fire had removed the outward chill at least. But even that took long to do, and before it was well done, Fleda again asked for the cup of tea. Barby made it without a word, and Fleda went to her aunt with it, taking her strength from the sheer emergency. Her knees trembled under her as she mounted the stairs, and once a glimpse of those words flitted across her mind "patient continuance in well-doing." It was like a lightning flash in a dark night showing the way one must go. She could lay hold of no other stay. Her mind was full of one intense purpose to end the suspense.