ish hate with such persistence.

"The fumes of your last night's debauch are some excuse for your bad
manners, sir," said he, rising. "I leave you to sleep them off; only
remember that the train starts at eight this evening, and it is my
desire you do not miss it."

With this he left me. I arose at once and began to dress. It was a slow
proceeding, for I would often stop, and sit down to think what course
would best befit me to take at this moment. At one instant it seemed to
me I ought to follow him, and declare that the splendid slavery in
which I lived had no charm for me,--that the faintest glimmering of
self-respect and independence was more my ambition than all the luxuries
that surrounded me; and when I had resolved I would do this, a sudden
dread of his presence,--his eye that I could never face without
shrinking,--the tones of his voice that smote me like a lash,--so
abashed me that I gave up the effort with despair.

Might he not consent to give me some pittance--enough to save her from
the burden of my support--and send me back to my mother? Oh, if I could
summon courage to ask this! This assistance need be continued only for a
few years, for I hoped and believed I should not always have to live as
a dependant What if I were to write him a few lines to this purport? I
could do this even better than speak it.

I sat down at once and began:--

"Dear papa,"--he would never permit me to use a more endearing word.
"Dear papa, I hope you will forgive me troubling you about myself and my
future. I would like to fit myself for some career or calling by which I
might become independent. I could work very hard and study very closely
if I were back with my mother."

As I reached this far, the door opened, and Eccles appeared.

"All right!" cried he; "I was afraid I should catch you in bed still,
and I 'm glad you 're up and preparing for the road. Are you nearly
ready?"

"Not quite; I wanted to write a letter before I go. I was just at it."

"Write from Verviers or Bonn; you'll have lots of time on the road."

"Ay, but my letter might save me from the journey if I sent it off now."

He looked amazed at this, and I at once told him my plan and showed him
what I had written.

"You don't mean to say you 'd have courage to send this to your
father?"

"And why not?"

"Well, all I have to say is, don't do it till I 'm off the premises; for
I 'd not be here when he reads it for a trifle. My dear Digby," said