of him, I am sure that
I should have fared badly in his thoughts.

But he was not on the watch for my emotions. He was simply relieved
to see me back. I noticed this immediately, also that something had
occurred during my absence which absorbed his thought and filled him
with anxiety.

A Western Union envelope lay at his feet,--proof that he had just
received a telegram. This, under ordinary circumstances, would not have
occasioned me a second thought, such a man being naturally the recipient
of all sorts of communications from all parts of the world; but at this
crisis, with the worm of a half-stifled doubt still gnawing at my heart,
everything that occurred to him took on importance and roused questions.

When he had left the room, Miss Grey nestled up to me with the seemingly
ingenuous remark:

"Poor papa! something disturbs him. He will not tell me what. I suppose
he thinks I am not strong enough to share his troubles. But I shall be
soon. Don't you see I am gaining every day?"

"Indeed I do," was my hearty response. In face of such a sweet
confidence and open affection doubt vanished and I was able to give all
my thoughts to her.

"I wish papa felt as sure of this as you do," she said. "For some reason
he does not seem to take any comfort from my improvement. When Doctor
Freligh says, 'Well, well! we are getting on finely to-day,' I notice
that he does not look less anxious, nor does he even meet these
encouraging words with a smile. Haven't you noticed it? He looks as
care-worn and troubled about me now as he did the first day I was taken
sick. Why should he? Is it because he has lost so many children he can
not believe in his good fortune at having the most insignificant of all
left to him?"

"I do not know your father very well," I protested; "and can not judge
what is going on in his mind. But he must see that you are quite a
different girl from what you were a week ago, and that, if nothing
unforeseen happens, your recovery will only be a matter of a week or two
longer."

"Oh, how I love to hear you say that! To be well again! To read
letters!" she murmured, "and to write them!" And I saw the delicate hand
falter up to pinch the precious packet awaiting that happy hour. I did
not like to discuss her father with her, so took this opportunity
to turn the conversation aside into safer channels. But we had not
proceeded far before Mr. Grey returned and, taking his stand at the
foot of the bed, remarked,