But hurry, Hannah. Send Sam. I have but a few hours to live. Tell them
to come quickly, Burton and the minister, not Grey."

So Hannah wrote the note to her brother, and gave it to Sam, who, in a
most unwilling frame of mind, harnessed the horse, and started in the
storm for Grey's Park.

Meanwhile, in anticipation of the coming of the guests, Hannah put her
father's room a little more to rights, lighted another candle, put more
wood in the stove, and then sat down to wait the result, with a heart
which it seemed to her had ceased to beat, so pulseless and dead it lay
in her bosom. She had no fear of anything personally adverse to herself
or her father arising from the telling of the secret kept so many years.
It would be safe with Mr. Sanford, while her proud brother would die a
thousand deaths sooner than reveal it; but, oh, how cruelly he would be
hurt, and how he would shrink from the story, and blame her that she
allowed it to be told, especially to the clergyman--and she might
perhaps prevent that yet. So she made another effort, but her father was
determined.

"I must, I must; I shall die easier, and he will never tell. We have
known him so long. Twenty-five years he has been here, and he took to us
from the first. Do you remember how often he used to come and read to
you on the bench under the apple tree?"

"Yes, father," Hannah answered, with a gasp, and he went on:

"Seeing you two together so much, I used to think he had a liking for
you, and you for him. Did you, Hannah? Were you and the minister ever
engaged?"