“Leland; send—­for—­him.”

With streaming eyes she turned to Elsie and repeated the words, adding, “Do you think he would come?”

“I am quite sure of it.  I will go for him at once.”

The white lips were moving again.

The mother explained, amid her choking sobs.  “He says the wife too, and—­and your husband and father.  Oh, will they come?  Tell them my boy is dying and would go at peace with all the world.”

“I will; and they will come,” Elsie answered, weeping, and hurried away.

She drove directly to Fairview and was so fortunate as to find her husband and father there conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Leland.

Her sad story was quickly told, and listened to by all with deep commiseration for the impoverished and afflicted family.

“You will not refuse the poor dying man’s request, papa?  Edward?” she said in conclusion.

“Certainly not!” they answered, speaking both together, “we will set out immediately.  And you, Leland?”

“Will gladly accompany you.  I bear the poor man no malice, and would rejoice to do him any good in my power.  What do you say, Mary?”

She looked at him a little anxiously, “Is it quite safe for you?”

“Quite, I think,” he replied, appealing to the other gentlemen for their opinion.

They agreed with him, Mr. Dinsmore adding, “I have no doubt the man is sincere; and I have still more confidence in his mother, whom I have long looked upon as a truly Christian woman.”

“Besides,” remarked Mr. Travilla, “the Ku Klux would hardly dare venture an outrage now.  The most desperate have fled the country, and the rest stand in wholesome awe of the troops.”

“I am quite, quite sure there is no risk in going,” said Elsie earnestly, “but whatever is done must be done quickly, for Wilkins is evidently very near his end; may, perhaps, expire before we arrive, even though we make all haste.”

At that there was a general, hurried movement, and in less time than it takes to tell it, they were on their way; Mrs. Leland in the carriage with Elsie, and the gentlemen on horseback.

Under the influence of restoratives administered by Dr. Barton, great apparent improvement had taken place in Wilkins’ condition; he was in less pain, breathed more freely, and spoke with less difficulty.

At sight of his visitors his pale face flushed slightly, and an expression of regret and mortification swept over his features.

“Thank you all for coming;” he said feebly.  “Please be seated.  I am at the very brink of the grave, and—­and I would go at peace with all men.  I—­I’ve hated you every one.  And you—­Leland, I would have killed if I could.  It was in the attempt to do so that I—­received my own death wound at the hands of your wife.”

Mrs. Leland started, trembled and burst into tears.  That part of the story Elsie had omitted, and she now heard it for the first time.