that the
fear of it had. And what a descent did that alone imply! She raised her
head again, and sat with dry eyes and a beating heart, waiting.

At last she was sure she heard some movement in the inner room. She
heard the click of things that were moved; the fall of a chair that was
knocked over, sounds of steps. Finally the door opened, and Mr. Copley
appeared on the threshold. The sight of him smote his daughter. His
dress was carelessly thrown on; _that_ was not so very remarkable, for
Mr. Copley never was an exact man in matters of the toilet. It was not
merely that. But Dolly's eye saw that his step was unsteady, his face
dull and flushed, and his eye had a look which even a very little
experience understands. His air was haggard, spiritless, hopeless; so
unlike the alert, self-sufficient, confident manner of old, that
Dolly's heart got a great wrench. And something in the whole image was
so inexpressibly pitiful to her, that she did the very last thing it
had been in her purpose to do; she fled to him with one bound, threw
herself on his breast, and burst into a heartbreak of tears.

Poor Mr. Copley was greatly startled and sorely perplexed. He had not
been prepared to see his daughter; and though miserably conscious that
he offered ground enough himself for Dolly's passion, he could not yet
be sure that it concerned him. It might be wrought by some other cause;
and in sore dismay and uncertainty he was not able to bring out a word
of question. Dolly sobbed, and sobbed; and putting her arms up around
his neck strained him in an embrace that was most pitifully longing and
tender. Mr. Copley felt the pitifulness; he did not know what it meant.
It was not till Dolly had released him and was trying to dry her eyes
that he brought out a question.

"What's the matter with you, Dolly?"

Dolly heard the thick and lumbering accent of his words, and burst
forth in a despairing cry. "O father! what is the matter with you?"

"I'm all right," said poor Mr. Copley. "I'm all right. What are you
here for?"

"I wanted to see you. Why did you never come down? You haven't been
near us."

"I was coming--hindered always--I was coming, Dolly. How's your mother?"

Dolly made a great effort after voice and calmness.

"She is well--I mean, she is no worse than usual. Will you have your
coffee, father?"

But Dolly's voice choked with a sob. Mr. Copley looked at her in a
helpless kind of way and made no answer. Dolly rang the