e people
leaving to-morrow."

The sad little procession moved quietly enough up the stairs,
and along the corridor to M. Linders' room. Graham had gone on
in front, but Madame Lavaux had held back Madelon when she
would have pressed forward by the side of the men who were
carrying her father, and she had yielded at first in sheer
bewilderment. She had passed through more than one phase of
emotion in the course of the last ten minutes, poor child! The
first overwhelming shock and terror had passed away, when
Graham's reassuring voice and manner had convinced her that
her father was not dead; but she had still felt too stunned
and confused to do more than obey passively, as she watched
him carefully raised, and slowly carried from the hall. By the
time they reached the top of the staircase, however, her
natural energy began to reassert itself; and, as she saw him
disappear within the bedroom, her impatient eagerness to be at
his side again, could not be restrained. His recent illness
was still too fresh a memory for the mere sight of his present
suffering and insensibility to have any of the terrors of
novelty, after the first shock was over, and all her former
experiences went to prove that his first words on recovering
consciousness would be to ask for her. Her one idea was that
she must go at once and nurse him; she had not heeded, nor,
perhaps, even heard Graham's last words, and she was about to
follow the men into the bedroom, when Madame Lavaux interposed
to prevent her.

"Run upstairs to my room, _petite_," she said; "you will be out
of the way there, and I will come to you presently."

"No," said Madelon, refusing point-blank, "I am going with
papa."

"But it is not possible, my child; you will only be in the
way. You heard what M. le Docteur said?"

"I _will_ go to papa!" cries Madelon, trembling with agitation
and excitement; "he will want me, I know he will, I am never
in his way! You have no right to prevent my going to him,
Madame! Let me pass, I say," for Madame Lavaux was standing
between her and the door of the room into which M. Linders had
been carried.

"_Allons donc_, we must be reasonable," says Madame. "Your papa
does not want you now, and little girls should do as they are
told. If you had gone to bed an hour ago, as I advised, you
would have known nothing about all this till to-morrow. Eh,
these children! there is no doing anything with them; and
these men," she continued, with a sigh