He walked homeward with hesitating steps, and on arriving at his house, he paused awhile before the door, mustering up courage to enter; at last he opened it with the air of a man who had a disagreeable duty to perform, and had made up his mind to go through with it.  “Tell Miss Ellis to come to the drawing-room,” said he to the servant; “merely say she’s wanted—­don’t say I’ve returned.”

He waited but a few moments before Esther made her appearance, looking sad and anxious.  “Oh, it’s you,” she said, with some surprise.  “You have news of father?”

“Yes, Esther, I have news; but I am sorry to say not of a pleasant character.”

“Oh, Mr. Walters, nothing serious I hope has happened to him?” she asked, in an agitated tone.

“I’m sorry to say there has, Esther; he has met with an accident—­a sad and severe one—­he’s been badly wounded.”  Esther turned deadly pale at this announcement, and leaned upon the table for support.

“I sent for you, Esther,” continued Mr. Walters, “in preference to your mother, because I knew you to be courageous in danger, and I trusted you would be equally so in misfortune.  Your father’s case is a very critical one—­very.  It appears that after leaving here, he fell into the hands of the rioters, by whom he was shockingly beaten.  He was taken to the hospital, where he now remains.”

“Oh, let me go to him at once, do, Mr. Walters!

“My dear child, it is impossible for you to see him to-day, it is long past the visiting hour; moreover, I don’t think him in a state that would permit the least agitation.  To-morrow you can go with me.”  Esther did not weep, her heart was too full for tears.  With a pale face, and trembling lips, she said to Mr. Walters, “God give us strength to bear up under these misfortunes; we are homeless—­almost beggars—­our friends have been murdered, and my father is now trembling on the brink of the grave; such troubles as these,” said she, sinking into a chair, “are enough to crush any one.”

“I know it, Esther; I know it, my child.  I sympathize with you deeply.  All that I have is at your disposal.  You may command me in anything.  Give yourself no uneasiness respecting the future of your mother and family, let the result to your father be what it may:  always bear in mind that, next to God, I am your best friend.  I speak thus frankly to you, Esther, because I would not have you cherish any hopes of your father’s recovery; from his appearance, I should say there is but little, if any.  I leave to you, my good girl, the task of breaking this sad news to your mother and sister; I would tell them, but I must confess, Esther, I’m not equal to it, the events of the last day or two have almost overpowered me.”

Esther’s lips quivered again, as she repeated the words, “Little hope; did the doctor say that?” she asked.

“I did not see the doctor,” replied he; “perhaps there may be a favourable change during the night.  I’d have you prepare for the worst, whilst you hope for the best.  Go now and try to break it as gently as possible to your mother.”