provingly, and she shrank into herself, drew apart, and
indulged in a reverie. She had heard in books of girls writing poetry,
romance, history--gaining fifties and hundreds. Could not some of the
myriads of fancies floating in her mind thus be made available? She
would compose, publish, earn money--some day call papa, show him her
hoard, beg him to take it, and, never owning whence it came, raise the
building. Spire and chancel, pinnacle and buttress, rose before her
eyes, and she and Norman were standing in the porch with an orderly,
religious population, blessing the unknown benefactor, who had caused
the news of salvation to be heard among them.

They were almost at home, when the sight of a crowd in the main street
checked them. Norman and Mr. Ernescliffe went forward to discover the
cause, and spoke to some one on the outskirts--then Mr. Ernescliffe
hurried back to the ladies.

"There's been an accident," he said hastily--"you had better go down the
lane and in by the garden."

He was gone in an instant, and they obeyed in silence. Whence came
Ethel's certainty that the accident concerned themselves? In an agony
of apprehension, though without one outward sign of it, she walked home.
They were in the garden--all was apparently as usual, but no one was in
sight. Ethel had been first, but she held back, and let Miss Winter go
forward into the house. The front door was open--servants were standing
about in confusion, and one of the maids, looking dreadfully frightened,
gave a cry, "Oh! Miss--Miss--have you heard?"

"No--what? What has happened? Not Mrs. May--" exclaimed Miss Winter.

"Oh, ma'am! it is all of them. The carriage is overturned, and--"

"Who's hurt? Mamma! papa! Oh, tell me!" cried Flora.

"There's nurse," and Ethel flew up to her. "What is it? Oh, nurse!"

"My poor, poor children," said old nurse, passionately kissing Ethel.
Harry and Mary were on the stairs behind her, clinging together.

A stranger looked into the house, followed by Adams, the stableman.
"They are going to bring Miss May in," some one said.

Ethel could bear it no longer. As if she could escape, she fled upstairs
into her room, and, falling on her knees, hid her face on her bed.

There were heavy steps in the house, then a sound of hasty feet coming
up to her. Norman dashed into the room, and threw himself on a chair. He
was ghastly pale, and shuddered all over.

"Oh, Norman, Norman, speak! What is it?" He groaned, but cou