foot, Rose. I
have not stepped on it for a month."

"Oh, father! I am so sorry for you--and for myself."

"I fell, my dear--fell down those spiral stairs in the library, and
sprained myself very badly. Did you imagine I had forgotten?"

"Mamma never told me--yes, I believe she did tell me--but I thought it
was only a little hurt. I have been so selfishly miserable. And, oh,
father! it is such a disappointment to me. I wanted you to take me to
Antony."

"That is folly, my child. Your husband is about his business. He will
come home as soon as he can leave it; and you are not fit to travel."

Then Rose remembered that her father had but a partial knowledge of
the truth regarding her real position, and she hesitated. Lame and
unable to help her, why should she make him unhappy? So she only said:
"There is something a little wrong between Antony and me, and I want
to talk to him. Letters always make trouble. I thought perhaps you
might go with me; but you are lame--and busy, too, I see."

"Unfortunately, I am lame at present; but if you are in any trouble,
Rose, I am not busy. What is this to you?" he asked, lifting some
manuscript and tossing it scornfully aside. "It is only my amusement;
you are my heart, my honor, my duty! I would burn every page of my
book if by so doing I could bring you happiness, my child."

"There is nothing to call for such a sacrifice, papa," she said, while
the grateful tears sprang to her eyes; "but somehow, I do not seem to
have any friends but you and mamma; none, at least, from whom I can
expect help."

"In trouble, Rose, you may always go to God and to your father and
mother for help. From them you cannot expect too much; and from men
and women in general you cannot expect too little. Your mother will be
home soon, so remain here to-night, and have a talk with her about
this notion of going west to Antony. She will tell you that it is very
foolish."

"If I stay I must send home the carriage, and then no one knows what
may happen if the house is without any one even to give an alarm. But
I am glad to have seen you, papa. And it was good to hear you say you
would burn your book for my sake. I feel ever so much better for
having heard you say such splendid words."

So Rose went home, without having made any advance towards her
intention; but she was strengthened and comforted by her father's love
and trust.

And she said to herself, "Perhaps I had better not be rash. I will be
st