father move, or heard a rustling in the straw where her brothers had
laid him.

And when little Ben was satisfied, she was almost rent asunder
between her unwillingness to leave unwatched all that was left of her
father, still with that vain hopeless hope that he might revive, all
could not have been over in such a moment, and her terrible anxiety
about her little sister. Could she have run back into the burning
house? Or could those dreadful soldiers have killed her too?

Steadfast presently came back, having found some of the startled
cattle and driven them in, but no Rusha. Patience was sure she could
find her, and giving the baby to Steadfast ran out in the rain and
smouldering smoke calling her; all in vain. Then she heard voices
and feet, and in a fresh fright was about to turn again, when she
knew Jephthah's call. He had the child in his arms. He had been
coming back from the village with some neighbours, when they saw the
poor little thing, crouched like a hare in her form under a bush. No
sooner did she hear them, than like a hare, she started up to run
away; but stumbling over the root of a tree, she fell and lay, too
much frightened even to scream till her brother picked her up.

Kind motherly arms were about the poor girls. Old Goody Grace, who
had been with them through their mother's illness, had hobbled up on
hearing the terrible news. She looked like a witch, with a tall hat,
short cloak, and nose and chin nearly meeting, but all Elmwood loved
and trusted her, and the feeling of utter terror and helplessness
almost vanished when she kissed and grieved over the orphans, and
took the direction of things. She straightened and composed poor
John Kenton's limbs, and gave what comfort she could by assuring the