The moment they were off he began questioning the boy closely as to the cause of the accident.  Harry could not tell much about it.  “She had fallen down the hill,” he said, “but he did not see what made her fall.”

“Was she much hurt?” Mr. Dinsmore asked, his voice trembling a little in spite of himself.

Harry “did not know, but feared she was pretty badly injured.”

“Was she insensible?”

“Yes, she was when I left,” Harry said.

Mr. Dinsmore leaned back in the carriage with a groan and did not speak again.

In another moment they had stopped, and flinging open the door, he sprang to the ground, and hurried toward the little group, who were still gathered about Elsie just as Harry had left them; some looking on with pale, frightened faces, others sobbing aloud.  Walter was crying quite bitterly, and even Enna had the traces of tears on her cheeks.  As for Arthur, he trembled and shuddered at the thought that he was perhaps already a murderer, and frightened and full of remorse, shrank behind the others as he saw his brother approach.

Elsie still lay with her head in Carry’s lap.

Hastily pushing the others aside, Mr. Dinsmore stooped over her, sorrow and intense anxiety written in every line of his countenance.

Again Elsie opened her eyes, and smiled faintly as she saw him bending over her.

“My precious one,” he murmured in a low, moved tone, as he gently lifted her in his arms; “are you much hurt?  Are you in pain?”

“Yes, papa,” she answered feebly.

“Where, darling?”

“My ankle, papa; it pains me terribly; and I think I must have hit my head, it hurts me so.”

“How did she come to fall?” he asked, looking round upon the little group.

No one replied.

“Please, papa, don’t ask,” she pleaded in a faint voice.

He gave her a loving, pitying look, but paid no other heed to her remonstrance.

“Who was near her?” he asked, glancing sternly around the little circle.

“Arthur,” said several voices.

Arthur quailed beneath the terrible glance of his brother’s eye, as he turned it upon him, exclaiming bitterly:  “Yes, I understand it all, now!  I believe you will never be satisfied until you have killed her.”

“Dear papa, please take me home, and don’t scold poor Arthur,” pleaded Elsie’s sweet, gentle voice; “I am not so very badly hurt, and I am sure he is very sorry for me.”

“Yes, darling,” he said, “I will take you home and will try to do so without hurting you;” and nothing could exceed the tenderness with which he bore her to the carriage, supported her in his arms during the short ride, and on their arrival carried her up to her room and laid her down upon a sofa.

Jim had brought the doctor, and Mr. Dinsmore immediately requested him to make a careful examination of the child’s injuries.