Would he hold on?
Or would he turn down to Branksome?
The thought had hardly crossed my mind when I heard by the difference of the sound that the runner had turned the corner, and that his goal was beyond all question the laird's house.
Rushing down to the gate of the lawn, I reached it just as our visitor dashed it open and fell into my arms.

I could see in the moonlight that it was none other than Mordaunt Heatherstone.
"What has happened ?" I cried.

"What is amiss, Mordaunt ?" "My father!" he gasped--"my father!" His hat was gone, his eyes dilated with terror, and his face as bloodless as that of a corpse.

I could feel that the hands which clasped my arms were quivering and shaking with emotion.
"You are exhausted," I said, leading him into the parlour.

"Give yourself a moment's rest before you speak to us.