he pit-pat of his bare feet
made no sound on the carpeted floor, so that the old man had no warning
of his presence till, turning, he saw the little night-gowned figure
standing motionless in the door-way.

He sprang from his chair and stretched out his hands. He tried to speak,
but no voice came at first; then in a hoarse whisper he
said,--"Harry--is it you? Ellen--"

Dickie, terrified, fled back into the hall as if shod with wings. In one
moment he was in the attic, up the ladder, on the roof. The old man ran
blindly after him.

"Come back, Ellen--come back!" he cried. "I will forgive you,--come
back to your poor old father, dear child." His foot slipped as he spoke.
It was at the stair-head. He fell forward heavily, and lump, bump, bump,
down stairs he tumbled, and landed heavily in the hall below.

Hester and the housemaid ran hastily from the kitchen at the sound of
the fall. When they saw the old man lying in a heap at the foot of the
stair, they were terribly frightened. Blood was on his face. He was
quite unconscious.

"He is dead. Mr. Kirton is dead!" cried the housemaid, wringing her
hands.

"No,--his heart beats," said Hester. "Run for Doctor Poster, Hannah, and
ask Richard Wallis to come at once and help me lift the poor old
gentleman."

Hannah flew to do this errand. A moment after, Mr. Kirton opened his
eyes.

"Where is Ellen?" he said. Then he shut them again. Hester glanced at
the torn letter, which through all his fall the old man had held
tightly clasped in his hand, and gave a loud cry.

"Miss Ellen, come back!" she exclaimed. "My own Miss Ellen. God has
heard my prayers."

When Mr. Kirton's senses returned, late in the night, he found himself
in his own bed. His head felt strangely; one arm was tied up in a queer
stiff bandage, so that he could not move it. A cloth wet with water lay
on his forehead. When he stirred and groaned, a hand lifted the cloth,
dipped it in ice-water, and put it back again fresh and cool. He looked
up. Some one was bending over him, some one with a face which he knew
and did not know. It puzzled him strangely. At last, a look of
recognition came into his eyes. "Ellen?" he said, in a tone of question.

"Yes, dear father, it is I."

"Why did you come dressed as a little child to frighten me? You are a
woman," he said wonderingly; "your hair is gray!"

"I did not come as a little child, father. I am an old woman now. I have
come to be your nurse."

"I don't