m, so that Lucilla and her father were left alone together, as so
often happened early in the evening. She followed him into the
library, asking, "Haven't you some letters to be answered, father? and
shall I not write them for you on the typewriter?"

"I fear you are too tired, daughter, and had better be getting ready
for bed," he answered, giving her a searching but affectionate look.

"Oh, no, sir," she said; "I am neither tired nor sleepy; and if I can
be of any use to my dear, kind father, nothing would please me
better."

He smiled at that, lifted the cover from the machine, and they worked
busily together for the next half-hour or more. When they had
finished, "Thank you, daughter," he said; "you are such a help and
comfort to me that I hardly know what I should ever do without you."

"Oh, you are so kind to say that, you dear father," she returned, her
eyes shining with joy and filial love. "I often say to myself, 'How
could I ever live without my dear father?' and then I ask God to let
you live as long as I do. And I hope he will."

"He will do what is best for us, daughter," returned the captain in
moved tones; "and if we must part in this world, we may hope to meet
in that better land where death and partings are unknown."

"Yes, papa, the thought of that must be the greatest comfort when
death robs us of our dear ones."

He took her hand, led her to a sofa, and, seating her by his side, put
his arm about her, drawing her close to him. "I have something to say
to you, daughter," he said in low, tender tones.

She gave him a rather startled, inquiring look, asking, "About what,
papa?"

"You remember the bit of news--in regard to the escape of a
convict--which hastened our departure for the North some months ago?"

"Yes, sir; and has he not been caught and returned to his prison?"

"No; and I have reason to think he is somewhere in this neighborhood,
probably bent on evil deeds, perhaps among them some harm to my
daughter, whose testimony helped to send him to prison for the
burglary committed here. I tell you this, my child, as a warning to
you to be very careful how you expose yourself to possible danger from
him."

"Yes, papa, I will; but you know I never go outside the grounds
without a protector, because you long ago forbade my doing so."

"Yes; but now you must not go everywhere even inside of them; avoid
the wood, and keep near the house unless I am with you."

"Yes, sir; I will obey. Bu