“Don't take on so, now don't, there's a good creature,” Mrs. Holl said, soothingly; “she will come back again safe enough; don't take on so.” But Mrs. Holl's words were addressed to deaf ears, and seeing that he paid no attention to her, she came close to him and touched him. Then a sharp contraction passed over his face, and in another moment he lay on the ground in a violent fit. Mrs. Holl was a strong woman, and accustomed to hard work, but it needed all her strength to hold the old man during the first paroxysm of the attack. She was unwilling to call for assistance, as she wished to hide what had happened from the neighbours until, at any rate, she knew what the father might determine upon doing. When she saw that the paroxysm was over, the kind hearted woman, wishing to spare him the sight of his daughter's empty room, took the still insensible man up in her strong arms and carried him down to the parlour. Presently he opened his eyes, then putting his hand over his face, remained immovable. “Please put up the shutters, and close the shop,” he said at length. Mrs. Holl hesitated. “I wouldn't do that, Mr. Walker, not if I were you; it would tell all the neighbours something wrong had taken place. If you bear up, and give out she's gone away on a visit, no one will be any the wiser, when she comes back, which she's sure to do sooner or later; and you may be sure I would bite my tongue out before I would speak a word. You must not be hard on her, Mr. Walker. Poor young thing, she has had no mother to advise her right, and young girls, if they ain't looked after, are as certain to go wrong as a horse is to go to water. You won't be hard on her now, Mr. Walker; you'll forgive her when she comes back?” Mrs. Holl said pleadingly. “She will never come back,” the old man said hoarsely, “never. He has married some one else, and she could not bear the disgrace. She is dead now.” Mrs. Holl sat down in sudden horror. She had not for a moment suspected this. She had only thought that Carry had eloped with some one, and that the letter was to tell her father of it and to beg for forgiveness. This was too dreadful, and as Mrs. Holl thought of the girl she had known so long and seen so lately, now lying dead, or perhaps being swept along by the cold river, she put her apron over her head and cried unrestrainedly. Stephen Walker shed no tears. He sat immovable, crushed and hopeless. When Mrs. Holl recovered, she went outside and put up the shutters, and then closing the door, went back into the parlour.