"Master Henry has not come back," said nurse. Her voice, heard in
unusual speech to him, arrested his attention, and rubbing his eyes,
he looked at the servant.

"Harry! oh, no! he had to attend a meeting of the masters about
these cursed turn-outs. I don't expect him yet. What are you
looking at me so strangely for, Sophy?"

"O papa, Harry is come back," said she, bursting into tears.

"What do you mean?" said he, startled into an impatient
consciousness that something was wrong. "One of you says he is not
come home, and the other says he is. Now, that's nonsense! Tell me
at once what's the matter. Did he go on horseback to town? Is he
thrown? Speak, child, can't you?"

"No! he's not been thrown, papa," said Sophy sadly.

"But he's badly hurt," put in the nurse, desirous to be drawing his
anxiety to a point.

"Hurt? Where? How? Have you sent for a doctor?" said he, hastily
rising, as if to leave the room.

"Yes, papa, we've sent for a doctor--but I'm afraid---I believe it's
of no use."

He looked at her for a moment, and in her face he read the truth.
His son, his only son, was dead.