There were confusion and dismay in the stately home of the Earles.

One sultry morning in August Lord Earle went out into the garden, paying no heed to the excessive heat.

As he did not return to luncheon, the butler went in search of him and found his master lying as one dead on the ground.

He was carried to his own room, doctors were summoned in hot haste from far and near; everything that science or love, skill or wisdom could suggest was done for him, but all in vain.

The hour had come when he must leave home, rank, wealth, position--whatever he valued most--when he must answer for his life and what he had done with it--when he must account for wealth, talent, for the son given to him--when human likings, human passions, would seem so infinitely little.
But while Lord Earle lay upon the bed, pale and unconscious, Lady Earle, who knelt by him and never left him, felt sure that his mind and heart were both active.