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Updated: June 24, 2025
Take me home now to-night." Austen glanced at Dr. Tredway. "It is best," said the doctor; "we will take him home to-night." They took him home, in the stateroom of the sleeper attached to the night express from the south, although Mr. Flint, by telephone, had put a special train at his disposal.
They were old friends, and the doctor, it may be recalled, had been chiefly responsible for the preservation of the life of Mr. Zebulun Meader. "I have sent for you, Doctor," she said, "against instructions and on my own responsibility. Mr. Vane is ill, although he refuses to admit it." Dr. Tredway had a respect for Victoria and her opinions, and he knew Hilary.
Meader had possession of the five senses nay, of the six. Austen sat down beside the bed. "Dr. Tredway tells me you are getting along finely," he said. "No thanks to the railrud," answered Mr. Meader; "they done their best." "Did you hear any whistle or any bell?" Austen asked. "Not a sound," said Mr. Meader; "they even shut off their steam on that grade."
Tredway believing that it had done more for him than any medicine or specialists. And when, one warm October day, Victoria herself came and sat beside the canopied bed, her conquest was complete: he surrendered to her as he had never before surrendered to man or woman or child, and the desire to live surged back into his heart, the desire to live for Austen and Victoria.
Back to the little room once more, where they are gathered speechless about Hilary Vane. And the doctor comes young Dr. Tredway of Ripton, who is before all others. "I expected this to happen, gentlemen," he said, "and I have been here all day, at the request of Mr. Vane's son, for this purpose." "Austen!" It was Hilary who spoke. "I have sent for him," said the doctor.
Sarah Austen had been a young, elfish thing when he married her, a dryad, the elderly and learned Mrs. Tredway had called her. Mr Vane had understood her about as well as he would have understood Mary, Queen of Scots, if he had been married to that lady.
"He rescued me from the wild woods," said the man, with the impressiveness of one who wishes to celebrate the most remarkable escape on record. Tredway had a profound objection to the woods. In the previous summer he had, with great reluctance, served as commissary general to a party of young men, who went in pursuit of a week's sport to Burlington Bay.
Edward and Allan were of the number, and when Tredway was lost on a little expedition of his own, to the nearest shanty in quest of provisions, it was Allan who went in search of him, and after some difficulty brought him back to camp. The event had been a source of some amusement to the rest; but to the mind of its hero it had lost nothing of its tragic aspect.
"The woods are very confusing to a person of my life and habits," he observed deprecatingly. "Oh, yes, indeed," returned Rose, "and so very different from England." The gratitude with which Tredway listened to this remark was not unmixed with regret that the tone in which it was uttered was sportive rather than serious.
Flint, "Why didn't you tell me? How do you know?" Victoria related how she had found Hilary coming away from Fairview, and what she had done, and the word Dr. Tredway had sent. "Good God!" cried Mr. Flint, "he won't be able to go to the convention!" And he rose and pressed the electric button. "Towers," he said, when the butler appeared, "is Mr. Freeman still in my room?
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