y." And now the
father dropped back into his chair, and buried his face in his hands.

When he did this Clara again knelt at his feet. She felt that she had
been cruel, and that she had defended her aunt at the cost of her own
father. She had, as it were, thrown in his teeth his own imprudence,
and twitted him with the injuries which he had done to her. "Papa,"
she said, "dear papa, do not think about it at all. What is the use?
After all, money is not everything. I care nothing for money. If you
will only agree to banish the subject altogether, we shall be so
comfortable."

"How is it to be banished?"

"At any rate we need not speak of it. Why should we talk on a subject
which is simply uncomfortable, and which we cannot mend?"

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" And now he swayed himself backwards and
forwards in his chair, bewailing his own condition and hers, and his
past imprudence, while the tears ran down his cheeks. She still knelt
there at his feet, looking up into his face with loving, beseeching
eyes, praying him to be comforted, and declaring that all would still
be well if he would only forget the subject, or, at any rate, cease
to speak of it. But still he went on wailing, complaining of his lot
as a child complains, and refusing all consolation. "Yes; I know,"
said he, "it has all been my fault. But how could I help it? What was
I to do?"

"Papa, nobody has said that anything was your fault; nobody has
thought so."

"I never spent anything on myself--never, never; and yet,--and
yet,--and yet--!"

"Look at it with more courage, papa. After all, what harm will it be
if I should have to go out and earn my own bread like any other young
woman? I am not afraid."

At last he wept himself into an apathetic tranquillity, as though he
had at present no further power for any of the energy of grief; and
she left him while she went about the house and learned how things
had gone on during her absence. It seemed, from the tidings which
the servant gave her, that he had been ill almost since she had been
gone. He had, at any rate, chosen to take his meals in his own room,
and as far as was remembered, had not once left the house since she
had been away. He had on two or three occasions spoken of Mr. Belton,
appearing to be anxious for his coming, and asking questions as to
the cattle and the work that was still going on about the place; and
Clara, when she returned to his room, tried to interest him again
about h