“Look out!  I’m going to push!”

With a catch in her throat, her heart pounding even more wildly than it had done before, she stood aside.  What voice was that?  It couldn’t be possible, of course, but it had sounded like one she knew in its every inflection, one which did not belong to any of her nearby friends.  It could not be possible—­it could not—­but—­

The door crashed open, and a mound of snow fell in with it.  Striding in over the snow came a tall figure in an enveloping great coat, covered with white from head to foot, the face ruddy and smiling.

CHAPTER XVII

FROM THE BEGINNING

John Leaver turned and tried to close the door, but the mound of snow prevented.  The wind was sweeping in with fury.  “Go away from it,” he commanded.  “I’ll see to it.”

He kicked the snow out with his foot, crowded the door into place, and turned about again.  He stood still, looking at the figure before him, with its startled face, wide eyes staring at him, breath coming short.  Charlotte’s hands were pressed over her heart, she seemed unable to speak.

“Did I frighten you, rushing in upon you at this time of night?” The smile upon his face died, he looked as if she had put out a hand to hold him off.  Then, as he regarded her more closely, he saw that which alarmed him.

“Is something wrong?  Has something happened?” he asked hurriedly.

She nodded, still staring with a strange, wild look.  Then, in a breath, she found speech and action.

“Oh, come!” she gasped.  “Granny is—­something has happened to Granny!” and ran to him and caught at his hand, like a child, pulling him.

“Just a minute,” he said, quickly, releasing himself, and pulled off his snow-covered overcoat and frozen gloves, and threw them to one side.  Then he put out his hand to her.

“Now!” he said, and they ran together to the stairs, and up them.  At the top Charlotte paused.

“In there!” she whispered, and let him take the lead.

Her hand held very tight in his he crossed the room.  He took up the candle from the dressing-table, approached the bed, and gave the candle to Charlotte.  Letting go her hand then, he bent and looked closely into the still, peaceful old face ... made a brief, quiet examination....

He led her down the stairs again.  She was fully blind now, seeing nothing, conscious of but two things—­the sense of a great blow having fallen stunningly, and the sense of being held firmly by a warm, strong hand.  She clung to that hand as if it were all that lay between sea and shore.

In the living-room, before the fire, she felt the hand draw itself gently away.  But then she found herself clasped in two warm arms, her head pressed gently down upon a strong shoulder.  A voice spoke with a throbbing tenderness which seemed to envelop her: 

“Don’t question anything, just let me take you to my heart—­where you belong.  God sent me to you at this hour, I’m sure of it.  I felt it all the way—­that you needed me.  I am yours, body and soul.  Let me serve you and take care of you as if it had all been settled long ago.  Be big enough for that, dear.”