A messenger rode hastily out of the avenue. A little after this the people of the village and the outlying farm-houses were startled by the sound of a bell.
One,—two,—three,—four,—
They stopped in every house, as far as the wavering vibrations reached, and listened—
—five,—six,—seven,—
It was not the little child which had been lying so long at the point of death; that could not be more than three or four years old—
—eight,—nine,—ten,—and so on to fifteen,—sixteen,—seventeen,—eighteen——
The pulsations seemed to keep on,—but it was the brain, and not the bell, that was throbbing now.
"Elsie's dead!" was the exclamation at a hundred firesides.
"Eighteen year old," said old Widow Peake, rising from her chair. "Eighteen year ago I laid two gold eagles on her mother's eyes,—he wouldn't have anything but gold touch her eyelids,—and now Elsie's to be straightened,—the Lord have mercy on her poor sinful soul!"
Dudley Venner prayed that night that he might be forgiven, if he had failed in any act of duty or kindness to this unfortunate child of his, now freed from all the woes born with her and so long poisoning her soul. He thanked God for the brief interval of peace which had been granted her, for the sweet communion they had enjoyed in these last days, and for the hope of meeting her with that other lost friend in a better world.