It was the loveliest bit of death and danger to be found for miles round—­so lovely that it might well have tempted the sorrowful to take their rest for ever in a grave so sweet, so eloquent of eternal peace.  Even Leam, with all the unspoken yearnings, the formless hopes, of youth stirring in her heart, thought how pleasant it would be to go to sleep among the flowers and wake up only when she had found mamma in heaven; while Fina, dazzled by the rank luxuriance before her, ran forward to the water’s edge with a shrill cry of delight.

Leam called to her to stand back, to come away from the water and the bank, which, shelving abruptly, was a dangerous place for a child.  The footing was insecure and the soil treacherous—­by no means a proper playground for the rash, uncertain feet of six.  Twice or thrice Leam called, but Fina would not hear, and began gathering the flowers with the bold haste of a child disobeying orders and resolved to make the most of her opportunity before the time came of her inevitable capture.

Thus Leam, walking fast, came up to her and took her by the arm in high displeasure.  “Fina, did you not hear me?  You must not stand here,” she said,

“Don’t, Leam, you hurt me—­you are cross:  leave me alone,” screamed Fina, twisting her little body to free herself from her step-sister’s hand.

“Be quiet.  You will fall into the river and be drowned if you go on like this,” said Leam, tightening her hold; and those small nervous hands of hers had an iron grasp when she chose to put out her strength.

“Leave me alone.  You hurt me—­oh, you hurt me so much!” screamed Fina, still struggling.

“Come with me, then.  Do as you are bid and come away,” returned Leam, slightly relaxing her grasp.  Though she was angry with the child, she did not want to hurt her.

“I shan’t.  Leave me alone.  You are a cross, ugly thing, and I hate you,” was Fina’s sobbing reply.

With a sudden wrench she tore herself from the girl’s hands, slipped, staggered, shrieked, and the next moment was in the water, floating downward with the current and struggling vainly to get out; while Leam, scarcely understanding what she saw, stood paralyzed and motionless on the bank.

Fortunately, at this instant Josephine drove up.  She was alone, driving her gray ponies in the basket phaeton, and saw the child struggling in the stream, with Learn standing silent, helpless, struck to stone as it seemed, watching her without making an effort to save her.  “Leam!  Fina! save her! save her!” cried Josephine, who herself had enough to do to hold her ponies, in their turn startled by her own sudden cries.  “Leam, save her!” she repeated; and then breaking down into helpless dismay she began to sob and scream with short, sharp hysterical shrieks as her contribution to the misery of the moment.  Poor Josephine! it was all that she could do, frightened as she was at her own prancing ponies, distracted at the sight of Fina’s danger, horrified at Leam’s apparent apathy.