On the homeward way, as they neared the cross-road leading to the city,
they saw a boy on horseback coming at a hard gallop down it in their
direction.

On catching sight of them he held aloft what looked like a letter, waving
it about his head in evident desire to attract their attention; then as he
reached their road he halted and waited for them to come up.

"Mr. Dinsmore, from the Oaks or Ion, isn't it?" he queried, lifting his
cap and bowing to the lady and her escort as they reined in their steeds
close at hand.

"Yes."

"A telegram for you, sir."

Mr. Dinsmore took the missive, tore it open and glanced at the contents,
then, handing it to Elsie, paid the boy and dismissed him.

"Oh, my poor darling!" she exclaimed, her tears dropping upon the paper.
"Father, what shall we do? tell her at once? Perhaps that would be best."

"Yes; I think it is her right. But of course it must be done as gently as
possible. Dear daughter, do not grieve too sorely for her; try to trust
her as well as yourself in your heavenly Father's hands."

"I will, papa, I will! but oh my heart bleeds for her!"

"Will you break the news to her? or shall I?"