February midnight
`` Your mother is ill . Come at once . She wishes for you . '' * * * * * It was in the stormy blackness of a February midnight that he rode up through the lighted gatehouse to his home . Above the terrace as he came up the road the tall hall-window glimmered faintly like a gigantic luminous door hung in space ; and the lower window of his father 's room shone and faded as the fire leapt within . A figure rose up suddenly from before the hall-fire as he came in , bringing with him a fierce gust of wet wind through the opened door ; and when he had slipped off his dripping cloak into his servant 's hands , he saw that his father was there two yards away , very stern and white , with outstretched hands . `` My son , '' said the old man , `` you are too late .