“Ay, ay, sir.”

“You will not be a moment behind hand?”

“Trust me for that, Cap’n.”

“See if the people have left.”

The skipper went on deck and returned to report the coast clear.

Thurston then went on shore, entered the carriage, and was driven homeward.

It was nearly four o’clock when he reached Dell-Delight, and there he found the whole premises in a state of confusion.  Several negroes were on the lookout for him; and as soon as they saw him ran to the house.

“What is the meaning of all this?” he inquired, detaining one of the hindmost.

“Oh, Marse Thuster, sir! oh, sir!” exclaimed the boy, rolling his eyes quite wildly.

“What is the matter with the fool?”

“Oh, sir; my poor ole marse! my poor ole marse!”

“What has happened to your master?  Can’t you be plain, sir?”

“Oh, Marse Thuster, sir! he done fell down inter a fit, an had to be toted off to bed.”

“A fit! good heavens! has a doctor been summoned?” exclaimed Thurston, springing from his seat.

“Oh, yes, sir!  Jase be done gone arter de doctor.”

Thurston stopped to inquire no farther, but ran into the house and up into his grandfather’s chamber.

There a distressing scene met his eyes.  The old man, with his limbs distorted, and his face swollen and discolored, lay in a state of insensibility upon the bed.  Two or three negro women were gathered around him, variously occupied with rubbing his hands, chafing his temples and wiping the oozing foam from his lips.  At the foot of the bed stood poor daft Fanny, with disheveled hair and dilated eyes, chanting a grotesque monologue, and keeping time with a see-saw motion from side to side.  The first thing Thurston did, was to take the hand of this poor crazed, but docile creature, and lead her from the sick-room up into her own.  He bade her remain there, and then returned to his grandfather’s bedside.  In reply to his anxious questioning, he was informed that the old man had fallen into a fit about an hour before—­that a boy had been instantly sent for the doctor, and the patient carried to bed; but that he had not spoken since they laid him there.  It would yet be an hour before the doctor could possibly arrive, and the state of the patient demanded instant attention.

And withal Thurston was growing very anxious upon Marian’s account.  The sun was now sinking under a dark bank of clouds.  The hour of his appointed meeting with her was approaching.  He felt, of course, that his scheme must for the present be deferred—­even if its accomplishment should again seem necessary, which was scarcely possible.  But Marian would expect him.  And how should he prevent her coming to the beach and waiting for him there?  He did not know where a message would most likely now to find her, whether at Luckenough, at Old Fields or at Colonel Thornton’s.  But he momentarily expected the arrival of Dr. Brightwell, and he resolved to leave that good man in attendance at the sick bed, while he himself should escape for a few hours; and hurry to the beach to meet and have an explanation with his wife.