Andabigbellwasbooming。Thatwashischurchbellandhewouldbelateforthemeeting。
Someonewasspeakingtohim。Heknewthevoice。Hehadknownitalwaysandwouldknowitforever。Itwasthevoicehewantedtohear。“Grace！“hecalled。“Grace！Iwantyou。Don’tgo！Don’tgo！Grace！oh，mydear！don’tgo！“
Thenthevoicehadgone。No，ithadnotgone。Itwasstillthereandhehearditspeakingtohim，begginghimtolisten，pleadingwithhimtogosomewhere，goback，backtosomethingorother。Andtherewasanarmabouthiswaistandsomeonewasleadinghim，helpinghim。Hebrokedownandcriedchildishlyandsomeonecriedwithhim。
Earlythenextmorning，justasdaywasbreaking，abuggy，thehorsewhichdrewitgalloping，rockedandbumpeddownthelighthouselane。Dr。Parker，hisbrowsdrawntogetherandhislipssetwithanxiety，wasdriving。HehadbeenrousedfromsleepinthehotelatHyannisbyaboywithatelegram。“Comequick，“itread。“Mr。Ellerysick。“ThesenderwasNoahEllis，thelightkeeper。Thedoctorhadhiredafasthorse，riddenattopspeedtoBayport，gottenafreshhorsethereandhurriedon。Hestoppedathisownhousebutamoment，merelytorousehiswifeandaskheriftherewasanyfreshnews。Butshehadnotevenheardoftheminister’sseizure。
“Mysoul，Will！“shecried，“youdon’tthinkit’sthesmallpox，doyou？“