In a moment he had opened the window and taken poor, wet little Una in
his arms.

"I saw your light burning, and I tapped; and father wants you," she
said, all in one breath; and although Mr. Carew wanted her to stay and
change into dry clothes, nothing would induce her to wait, and he had
to content himself with wrapping her in a warm shawl and carrying her
back in his arms through the rain.

Then he handed her over to Marie's care, telling her that the little
girl had better have a hot bath and something nice and hot to drink as
soon as possible, while he went straight to Monsieur Gen's room.

An hour later, while Una lay in bed listening for the slightest sound
from her father's room, the Vicar fetched her to say good-night to him.

"Good-bye, darling," said her father. "God bless you, little one."

"Good-night, father--dear father!" said the child, crying softly, she
knew not why; and then Mr. Carew carried her back to bed, and she slept
soundly until awakened the next morning by the sunshine pouring through
the window on to her bed.

But, although the sun shone brightly out of doors and birds sang gaily
in the trees, it was a sad, sad day within the house, for Monsieur Gen
had died during the night, and little Una was an orphan.

Oh, how slowly the hours of that day dragged by for Una! No one had
much time to spare for the little girl, and she walked drearily from
room to room, feeling that it was cruel of the sun to shine and the
birds to sing so merrily when her father was dead and she would never,
on earth, hear him speak again.

She fell asleep at last--curled up in one of the large study
chairs--worn out with crying and want of sleep; for often during the
last fortnight she had kept herself awake in case her father should
want anything and call for her in the night.

There, some hours later, Mr. Carew found her--fast asleep, and with her
arms tightly folded round one of her father's coats.

Very gently he lifted the little girl in his arms and carried her down
the lane to the vicarage; and when Una awoke she found herself in
Norah's little bed, with Mrs. Carew bending over her with loving looks
and tender words of sympathy.

She was to live with them always now, Mrs. Carew told the little girl,
and she must try and be as happy as she could among them, and look upon
Norah and Dan and Mary and Ruth and Tom and Philip and Stephen as her
own brothers and sisters.

In a few days' time, as soon as