Elsie sprang to her side, lifted the veil that covered the little face, and softly touched her lips to the delicate cheek. "Good-bye, baby darling. Oh, mammy, we'll miss her sadly and you too." "Don't fret, honey, 'spect we all be comin' back soon," Aunt Chloe whispered, readjusting the veil, and hurrying after her mistress. Elsie flew to the window, and watched the carriage roll away down the avenue, till lost to sight in the darkness, tears trembling in her eyes, but a thrill of joy mingling with her grief: "it was so sweet to be a comfort and help to dear mamma." She set herself to considering how she might be the same to her father and brothers and sister; what she could do now. She remembered that her father was very fond of music and that her mother often played and sang for him in the evenings. He had said he would probably return in an hour, and going to the piano she spent the intervening time in the diligent practice of a new piece of music he had brought her a day or two before. At sound of the carriage wheels she ran to meet him, her face bright with welcoming smiles. "My little sunbeam," he said taking her in his arms; "you have been nothing but a comfort and blessing to your mother and me, since the day you were born." "Dear papa, how kind in you to tell me that!" she said, her cheek flushing and her eyes glistening with pleasure. He kept her with him till after her usual hour for retiring, listening to, and praising her music and talking with her quite as if she were fit to be a companion for him. Both the injured ones were very ill for some weeks, but by means of competent medical advice and careful nursing, their lives were saved; yet neither recovered entirely from the effects of the accident. Mr. Dinsmore was feeble and ailing, and walked with a limp for the rest of his days, and Enna, though her bodily health was quite restored, rose from her bed with an impaired intellect, her memory gone, her reasoning powers scarcely equal to those of an ordinary child of five or six. She did not recognize her children, or indeed any one; she had everything to relearn and went back to childish amusements, dolls, baby-houses and other toys. The sight was inexpressibly painful to Dick and Molly, far worse than following her to her grave. She remained at her father's, a capable and kind woman being provided to take constant charge of her, while Bob and Betty stayed on at the Oaks, their uncle and aunt bringing them up with all the care and kindness bestowed upon their own children; and Dick and Molly made their home at Ion. The latter was removed thither as soon as the danger to her mother's life was past, the change being considered only temporary at the time; though afterward it was decided to make it permanent, in accordance with the kind and generous invitation of Mr. and Mrs. Travilla to her and her brother, and their offer to become responsible for the education and present support of both.