But an hour passed, and the doctor did not come.
Thurston's eyes wandered anxiously from the distorted face of the dying
man before him, to the window that commanded the approach to the house.
But no sign of the doctor was to be seen.
The sun was on the very edge of the horizon. The sufferer before him was
evidently approaching his end. Marian he knew must be on her way to the
beach. And a dreadful storm was rising.
His anxiety reached fever heat.
He could not leave the bedside of his dying relative, yet Marian must
not be permitted to wait upon the beach, exposed to the fierceness of
the storm, or worse the rudeness of his own confederates.
He took a sudden resolution, and wondered that he had not done so
before. He resolved to summon Marian as his wife to his home.
Full of this thought, he hastened down stairs and ordered Melchizedek to
put the horse to the gig and get ready to go an errand. And while the
boy was obeying his directions, Thurston penned the following lines to
Marian:
"My dear Marian--my dear, generous, long-suffering wife--come to my aid.
My grandfather has been suddenly stricken down with apoplexy, and is
dying. The physician has not yet arrived, and I cannot leave his
bedside.
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