"No, Miss Amy. She only needs your care to revive speedily. Please lead the way to your mother's apartment." "I think there is a God, and that he sent you" she whispered. "You are right," he replied, in the natural hearty tone which is so potent in reassuring the terror-stricken. "Courage, Miss Amy; all will be well at last. Now let me help you like a brother, and when your mother revives, I will give her something to make her sleep; I then wish you to sleep also." The poor lady revived after a time, and tried to rise that she might return to her husband's room, but fell back in utter weakness. "Mrs. Poland," said Haldane gently, "you can do no good there. You must live for your children now." She soon was sleeping under the influence of an opiate. "Will you rest, too, Miss Amy?" asked Haldane. "I will try," she faltered; but her large, dark eyes looked as if they never would close again. Returning to the room over which so deep a hush had fallen, Haldane gave a few directions to the old negress whom he left in charge, and then sought the rest he so greatly needed himself. CHAPTER LI "O PRICELESS LIFE!" When Haldane came down the following morning he found Bertha playing on the piazza as unconscious of the loss of her father as the birds singing among the trees of their master. Amy soon joined them, and Haldane saw that her eyes had the same appealing and indescribable expression, both of sadness and terror, reminding one of some timid and beautiful animal that had been brought to bay by an enemy that was feared inexpressibly, but from which there seemed no escape. He took her hand with a strong and reassuring pressure. "Oh," she exclaimed with a slight shudder, "how can the sun shine? The birds, too, are singing as if there were no death and sorrow in the world." "Only a perfect faith, Miss Amy, can enable us, who do know there is death and sorrow, to follow their example." "It's all a black mystery to me," she replied, turning away. "So it was to me once." An old colored man, the husband of the negress who had assisted Haldane in his watch, now appeared and announced breakfast. It was a comparatively silent meal, little Bertha doing most of the talking. Amy would not have touched a mouthful had it not been for Haldane's persuasion. As soon as Bertha had finished, she said to Haldane: "Amy told me that you did papa ever so much good last evening: now I want to see him right away." "Does she not know?" asked Haldane in a low tone. Amy shook her head. "It's too awful. What can I tell her?" she faltered. "It is indeed inexpressibly sad, but I think I can tell the child without its seeming awful to her, and yet tell her the truth," he replied. "Shall I try to explain?" "Yes, and let me listen, too, if you can rob the event of any of its unutterable horror." "Will Bertie come and listen to me if I will tell her about papa?"