't gwine ter die," said the old nurse, checking
her sobs. "Dey does say Doctah Arthur kin 'most raise de dead."

"Well, I'm sure I hope Mr. Travilla won't die," responded Miss Deane,
"or prove to be permanently injured in any way.--Ah, Christine!" as the
latter re-entered the room: "what is all this story about a railroad
accident? Is Mr. Travilla killed?"

"No, no, he not killed," replied Christine, in her broken English. "How
bad hurt, I not know to say; but not killed."

Meantime Edward had been taken to his room, and put comfortably to bed;
while Zoe, seated in her boudoir, waited anxiously for the doctor's
report of his condition.

Ella was with her, and now and then tried to speak a comforting word,
which Zoe scarcely seemed to hear. She sat with her hands clasped in her
lap, listening intently to catch every sound from the room where her
injured husband lay. She looked pale and anxious, and occasionally a
tear would roll quickly down her cheek.

At last the door opened, and Arthur stepped softly across the room to
her side.

"Cheer up, little cousin," he said kindly. "Edward seems to be doing
very well; and if you will be a good, quiet little woman, you may go and
sit by his side."

"Oh, thank you! I'll try," she said, starting up at once. "But mayn't I
talk to him at all?"

"Not much to-night," was the reply; "not more than seems absolutely
necessary; and you must be particularly careful not to say any thing
that would have the least tendency to excite him."

"Oh, then he must be very, very ill,--terribly injured!" she cried, with
a burst of tears and sobs.

"That does not necessarily follow," Arthur said, taking her hand, and
holding it in a kindly pressure. "But you must be more composed, or,"
playfully, "I shall be compelled to exert my authority so far as to
forbid you to go to him."

"Oh, no, no! don't do that!" she cried pleadingly. "I'll be calm and
quiet; indeed, indeed I will."

"That's right," he said. "I think I may venture to try you."

"But won't you please tell me just how much you think he is hurt?" she
pleaded, clinging to his hand, and looking up beseechingly into his
face.

"My dear little cousin," he said in a tenderly sympathizing tone, "I
wish to do all in my power to relieve your anxiety, but am as yet in
some doubt myself as to the extent of his injuries. He is a good deal
shaken and bruised; but, as I have said before, there are no broken
bones; and, unless there should