The stranger might shortly afterwards be seen coming from the lodge, and hastening towards Mr. Ware, who was superintending the removal of Rogers to the rectory, where he hoped that during the hours of returning health, he might acquire an influence, which might turn his present feelings to good account.
"Sir," said he, as he joined him, "may I beg you to go to poor Miss Lesly."
"What has happened to her?" said Mr. Ware, anxiously.
"The child is dead," replied the stranger.
"Dead!" exclaimed Mr. Ware, in surprise, "I heard she was safe, poor child. How I wish I had seen her."
He did not speak again till they reached the lodge, and then leaving his companion without, he entered the chamber of death. There lay his little favorite on her couch, which had been arranged with studious care. By her side knelt Mabel, her head buried in her hands, her hair loose and disordered, and looking almost as lifeless as the child she mourned.
Miss Ware was in the room, and hurried to meet her brother with an affectionate kiss, for she had not seen him for some hours.
"I am glad you are come, Edmund," said she, "for I can do nothing for the poor girl—she will not even speak to me."
"Do not even try to comfort her," said her brother, taking her hand, kindly; "we who are grateful for each other's safety can well enter into her feelings. Send away these good friends, and keep only one with you, and then stay with her a little while; but do not rouse her yet—I will come again and see her."
His sister, always prompt in following his advice, choosing one steady woman to be with her, dismissed the rest (who had crowded in with the hope of being of service) with thanks for their attention.