had happened, and Eddie threw himself on
the ground screaming in an agony of grief and remorse, "O, I've killed
my father, my dear, dear father! O, papa, papa! what shall I do? what
shall I do?"

Mr. Leland coming in search of his children, the men passing the gate
returning from their work, all heard and rushed to the spot. The blacks
crowded about the scene of the accident, sobbing like children at the
sight of their loved master and friend lying there apparently lifeless.

Mr. Leland, his features working with emotion, at once assumed the
direction of affairs.

"Catch the horses," he said, "and you, Ben, mount the fleetest and fly
for the doctor. And you," turning to another, "take the other and hurry
to the Oaks for Mr. Dinsmore. Now the rest of you help me to carry your
master to the house. I will lift his head, there gently, gently, my good
fellows, I think he still breathes. But Mrs. Travilla!" he added,
looking toward the dwelling, "all seems quiet there; they have not
heard, I think, and she should be warned. I wish--"

"I will go, I will tell mamma," interrupted a quivering child voice at
his side.

Little Elsie had pushed her way through the crowd and dropping on her
knees on the grass was raining kisses and tears upon the pale,
unconscious face.

"You? poor child!" Mr. Leland began in piteous tones; but she had
already sprung to her feet and was flying toward the house with the
fleetness of the wind.

One moment she paused in the spacious entrance hall, to recover her
breath, calm her features, and remove the traces of her tears. "Mamma,
mamma," she was saying to herself, "O Lord Jesus give me the right words
to speak to her."

She hardly knew to which apartment to direct her steps, but "Hark! there
was the sound of the piano and mamma's sweet voice singing a song papa
had brought home only the other day, and that he liked. Ah would she
ever sing again now that he--"

But no, not even in thought could she say that dreadful word; but she
knew now that mamma was in the music room; and earnestly repeating her
silent petition for help, she hurried thither.

The door was open; with swift, noiseless steps she gained her mother's
side; passing an arm about her neck, and half averting her own pale,
agitated face, "Mamma," she said in low, tremulous tones, "'God is our
refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble!' Mamma, Jesus loves
you, Jesus loves you! He will help you to bear--"

"My daught