esire 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.

* * * * *

"Be strong,--be patient, dear!"

It came back, in the midst of the darkness, the misery; it helped
her through those days; it made her strong for her mother. It
comforted her, she hardly knew how much; but O, how cruel it seemed
afterward!

They went directly down to Boston. Mr. Ledwith was buried from their
own house. It was all over; and now, what should they do? Uncle
Titus came to see them. Mrs. Ripwinkley came right back from
Homesworth. Dorris Kincaid left her summer-time all behind, and
came to stay with them a week in Shubarton Place. Mrs. Ledwith
craved companionship; her elder daughters were away; there were
these five weeks to go by until she could hear from them. She would
not read their letters that came now, full of chat and travel.

Poor Laura! her family scattered; her dependence gone; her life all
broken down in a moment!

Dorris Kincaid did not speak of Kenneth and Rosamond. How could she
bring news of others' gladness into that dim and sorrowful house?

Luclarion Grapp shut up her rooms, left her plants and her birds
with Mrs. Gallilee, and came up to Shubarton Place in the beginning.
There were no servants there; everything was adrift; the terrible
blows of life take people between the harness, most unprovided,
unawares.

It was only for a little while, until they could hear from the
girls, and make plans. Grant Ledwith's income died with him; there
was ten thousand dollars, life insurance; that would give them a
little more than a sixth part of what his salary had been; and there
were the two thousand a year of Uncle Titus; and the house, on which
there was a twelve thousand dollar mortgage.

Mrs. Ledwith had spent her life in