“Dear papa,” said Fan, “if God had not thought best to save his life, he would have been taken. Please do not blame yourself. It was our duty to try, and to pray. The end is with God.”
“You are right, my darling, and I must act instead of doubting. Let me think—I can reach Wilburton at eight this evening. I will do all I can. If Stephen were only here!”
Half an hour afterward we received a telegram from him. He was in New York. After a flying visit to the boys he would be with us.
“I had better meet him there;” said papa. “We can consult about the best steps to be taken. And indeed, Louis may have returned to Wilburton.
“Everything always does happen to us at once,” said Fan. “But this is such a sorry happening! We have to take our share of other’s misfortunes, but joys do not always go round so far.”
“I am sure we have had a great many joys;” returned mamma in her sweet tone. “And no—”
“Bad boys of our own;” put in Fan. “Or good ones either for that matter. But there is one thing to be very thankful for, and that is, that Louis Duncan has not the sin of murder on his soul.”
“True, true, Fanny;” returned papa.
An hour later he put a few articles in a hand satchel and bade us good-bye. That was Wednesday and he did not return until Friday eve, when Mr. Duncan came with him.
Six months of foreign life had changed him considerably. He was stouter, looked older, and wore a full beard. I did feel afraid of him. I wondered how Fan could talk so freely. He was grave to the verge of sadness; yet very sweet to mamma with that kind of reverential sweetness so touching.