We started up, and laid him on the sofa. With the privilege
of an old friend, I glanced at the letter, and found that a certain
speculation in which the colonel had ventured largely, had utterly failed.
I told Adela enough to satisfy her as to the nature of the misfortune. We
feared apoplexy, but before we could send for any medical man, he opened
his eyes, and called Adela. He clasped her to his bosom, and then tried to
rise; but fell back helpless.
"Shall we send for Dr. Wade?" said Adela, trembling and pale as death.
"Dr. Wade!" faltered the old man, with a perceptible accent of scorn.
"Which shall we send for?" I said.
"How can you ask?" he answered, feebly. "Harry Armstrong, of course."
The blood rushed into Adela's white face, and Beeves rushed out of the
room. In a quarter of an hour, Harry was with us. Adela had retired. He
made a few inquiries, administered some medicine he had brought with him,
and, giving orders that he should not be disturbed for a couple of hours,
left him with the injunction to keep perfectly quiet.
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