er, what is it?" asked the mother in a tone of forced
calmness, a terrible pang shooting through her heart, "your father?
Eddie? Vi?"--then starting up at a sound as of the feet of those who
bore some heavy burden, she ran into the hail.

For a moment she stood as one transfixed with grief and horror.

"He breathes, he lives," Mr. Leland hastened to say.

Her lips moved but no words came from them. Silently motioning them to
follow her, she led the way to his room and pointed to the bed. They
laid him on it and at that instant consciousness returned.

"Dear wife, it is nothing," he faintly murmured, lifting his eyes to
her face as she bent over him in speechless anguish.

She softly pressed her lips to his brow, her heart too full for
utterance.

The words sent a thrill of gladness to the heart of little Elsie, who
had crept in behind the men, and stood near the bed silently weeping;
her father lived; and now Eddie's frantic screams seemed to ring in her
ears (in her fear for her father she had scarcely noticed them before)
and she must go and tell him the glad news. She was not needed here;
mamma was not conscious of her presence, and she could do nothing for
the dear injured father. She stole quietly from the room.

On the veranda she found Violet crying bitterly, while Mary Leland
vainly tried to comfort her.

"Don't cry so, little sister," Elsie said, going to her and taking her
in her arms in tender motherly fashion, "our dear papa is not killed;
I saw him open his eyes, and heard him say to mamma, 'Dear wife, it is
nothing.'"

Vi clung to her sister with a fresh burst of tears, but this time they
were tears of joy. "O, I'm so glad! I thought I had no papa any more."

A few more soothing words and caresses and Elsie said, "Now I must go
and tell poor Eddie. Do you know where he is?"

"Hark! don't you hear him crying way off in the grounds?" said Mary, "I
think he's just where he was."

"O, yes, yes!" and Elsie hastened in the direction of the sounds.

She found him lying on the grass still crying in heart-broken accents,
"Oh, I've killed my father, my dear, dear father! what shall I do! what
shall I do!"

Dick and Walter were gone; like the guilty wretches they were, they had
fled as soon as they saw what mischief they had caused. But Archie too
kind-hearted and noble to forsake a friend in distress, was still there.

"You didn't mean to do it, Eddie," he was saying, as Elsie came within
hearing.