write it is because I 'm keeping everything to tell her when
we meet. If it was n't for her picture, I don't know what
would have become of me since last Tuesday, when the rain
set in."

Beecher re-read the letter from the beginning; nor was it an easy matter
for him to master at once all the topics it included. Of himself and his
own affairs the information was vague and unsatisfactory; but Grog knew
how to keep him always in suspense,--to make him ever feel that he was
swimming for his life, and he himself the only "spar" he could catch at.

"Bring me to book about my care of his daughter!" muttered he, over and
over, "just as if she was n't the girl to take care of herself. Egad! he
seems to know precious little about her. I 'd give a 'nap' to show her
this letter, and just hear what she 'd say of it all. I suppose she 'd
split on me. She 'd go and tell Davis, 'Beecher has put me up to
the whole "rig;"' and if she did--What would happen then?" asked he,
replying to the low, plaintive whistle which concluded his meditation.
"Eh--what! did I say anything?" cried he, in terror.

"Not a syllable. But I could see that you had conjured up some
difficulty which you were utterly unable to deal with."

"Well, here it is," said he, boldly. "This letter is from your father.
It's all full of private details, of which you know nothing, nor would
you care to hear; but there is one passage--just one--that I'd greatly
like to have your opinion upon. At the same time I tell you, frankly, I
have no warranty from your father to let you see it; nay, the odds are
he 'd pull me up pretty sharp for doing so without his authority."

"That's quite enough, Mr. Beecher, about _your_ scruples. Now, _mine_ go
a little further still; for they would make me refuse to learn anything
which my father's reserve had kept from me. It is a very easy rule of
conscience, and neither hard to remember nor to follow."

"At all events, he meant this for your own eye," said Beecher, showing
her the last few lines of the letter.

She read them calmly over; a slight trembling of the lip--so slight that
it seemed rather like a play of light over her face--was the only sign
of emotion visible, and then, carefully folding the letter, she gave it
back, saying, "Yes, I had a right to see these lines."

"He _is_ fond of you, and proud of you, too," said Beecher. A very
slight nod of her head gave an assent to his remark, and she was silent.
"We