Excerpt

It was eight o'clock on a fine October morning. There was a touch of frost in the air that made the sunshine which gilded the steadily falling leaves from the beech trees bordering the road outside Dr. Knight's house feel genial and comforting.

In the pleasant sitting-room facing the high road sat the doctor, his children, and their governess at breakfast. The head of the family was a tall, muscular man, with a bronzed face, and kind, grey eyes. There was about him a look of perfect health, that made his patients in the country town of Raymouth say his very presence in a sick-room was cheering; and possessing great skill as a surgeon, added to one of the most sympathetic hearts in the world, it was no wonder he had an increasing practice. Indeed, he needed it, for his wife was an invalid, and he had four children, and no private means.