“Mamma,” said Herbert, “it’s a lovely morning:  do give us a holiday and let’s drive over to the Oaks; we haven’t seen Aunt Rose and the rest for ever so long.”

The other children joined in the petition; grandma put in a word of approval, and mamma finally consented, if the truth were told nothing loth to give, or to share the treat.

The carriage was ordered at once, and they set out shortly after leaving the table.

Arrived at their destination they found Mrs. Murray on the veranda, looking out with an eager, anxious face.

“Ah!” she said, coming forward as the ladies alighted, “I didna expect—­my sight is no so keen as in my younger days, and I thocht till this moment ’twas Mr. Dinsmore’s carriage, bringing them hame again after their dreadfu’ nicht at Ion.”

Both ladies turned pale, and old Mrs. Carrington leaned heavily upon her daughter-in-law for support.  Her lips moved but no sound same from them, and she gasped for breath.

“Oh tell us!” cried Sophie, “what, what has happened?”

The children too were putting the same question in varying tones and words.

“The Ku Klux,” faltered the housekeeper.  “An’ ye hadna heard aboot it, my leddies?”

“No, no, not a word,” exclaimed Sophie, “but see, my mother is fainting.  Help me to carry her into the house.”

“No, no, I can walk:  I am better now, thank you,” said Mrs. Carrington, in low, faltering tones, “Just give me the support of your arm, Mrs. Murray.”

They led her in between them, and laid her on a sofa.

“And that’s where George was!” she sighed, closing her eyes wearily.  Then half starting up, “Tell me, oh tell me, was—­was—­Mr. Travilla injured?”

“No, my leddy, he had been warned, and was ready for them.”

“Thank God! thank God!” came faintly from the white quivering lips, as she sank back upon her pillow again, and two great tears stealing from beneath the closed eyelids rolled slowly down the furrowed cheeks.

“You have heard the particulars then?” said Sophie, addressing the housekeeper.  “And my brother and sister were there?”

“Yes, ma’am, and Master Horace, and Miss Rosie too.  Yes; and some of the men-servants.  Mr. Dinsmore’s man John was one o’ them, and he’s come back, and frae him I learned a’ was richt with our friends.”

“Oh call him in and let me hear all he can tell!” entreated the old lady.

The request was immediately complied with, and John gave a graphic and in the main correct account of the whole affair.

His tale was to all his auditors one of intense, thrilling, painful interest.  They lost not a word and when he had finished his story the old lady cross-questioned him closely.  “Did he know who had warned Mr. Travilla? were any of the raiders recognized?”

Both of these questions John answered in the negative.  “At least,” he corrected himself, “he had not heard that any one was recognized:  they were all completely disguised, and they had carried away their dead and wounded; both the shot and the scalded.”