Desire rushed down among them; past Mrs. Prendible, past the minister, straight to Kenneth Kincaid.
Kenneth took her right in his arms, and carried her into a little room below.
"There could have been no pain," he said, tenderly. "It was the accident of a moment. Be strong,—be patient, dear!"
There had been tender words natural to his lips lately. It was not strange that in his great pity he used them now.
"My father!" gasped Desire.
"Yes; your father. It was our Father's will."
"Help me to go to my mother!"
She took his hand, half blind, almost reeling.
And then they all, somehow, found themselves up-stairs.
There were moans of pain; there were words of prayer. We have no right there. It is all told.