“Oh, mamma! let us go to him at once.”

“Dexie, do you want to kill me?  I could not survive the journey in the present state of my nerves; and does not the message say that everything shall be done for him?  What could I do more?”

Another peal of the bell, and Dexie flew down to the door, where a brass-buttoned youth presented himself.

“I am sent to say that there is a train starting for the scene of the collision in fifteen minutes.  If there is anyone here going down, they will have to hurry.”

Dexie rushed back to her mother’s side.

“Oh, mamma, I must go to him!  Can you go, too?  Say quickly, mamma!”

“Oh, I shall die!  I shall die!” and Mrs. Sherwood fell back on the sofa in violent hysterics.

This was answer enough, and Dexie rushed to her own room, calling loudly for Eliza.

Gussie ran up the stairs at that moment, saying wildly:  “Oh, Dexie, is it true?  Is papa hurt?”

“Yes, Gussie, and I am going to him.  Run to mamma; I cannot delay a moment.  Here, Eliza,” as the frightened domestic appeared, “put those things into this travelling-bag while I tell you what you are to do.  Papa is hurt, and I have barely time to catch the train.  You must run for Mrs. Jarvis as soon as I am done with you, and tell her to come and stay with mamma; then hurry along for the doctor—­he will give mamma something to quiet her.  Tell Mrs. Jarvis I leave everything in her care till I return, and say that she must fix up the back parlor all ready for papa, in case he can be brought home.  She will know what to do.  Now, I must go.  I am sure I can trust you to do your best, Eliza, till I get back.  I do not know when that will be.”

She arrived at the depot hot and breathless, but in time to take her place among the number who, with white, sad faces and tear-dimmed eyes, were on their way to claim the forms of loved ones, or to comfort and relieve those whose lives had been spared them.  The first tears she shed were those that fell when she recognized Edith Wolcott and her brother among the passengers.

“Dexie, you here, and alone!” was Edith’s greeting, and the answer was a flood of relief-giving tears.

“Papa is hurt,” she sobbed, as Edith inquired why she was on the train.

“I am so sorry; but perhaps it is not as bad as you fear.  We expected Aunt Eunice would arrive by that train.  We do not know that she really was a passenger, but I could not rest at home till I knew the truth!” Edith exclaimed.  “Mr. Traverse was to have returned to-day,” she added.  “Did you hear if he was hurt?”

Dexie did not know, but thought not, as he had sent her the message concerning her father.

They relapsed into silence, except when someone would voice the sentiments in the heart of each and say, with a sigh, “How slowly the train moves along!” Yet they were travelling very rapidly, and in due time they arrived at the scene of the wreck.