She is a child yet. But
then, William, I'll take a promise from you, if you will give it.'

'I will give any promise you like, sir. What is it?' said Pitt, who had
never been in a less pleasant mood towards his friend. In fact he was
entirely out of patience with him. 'What promise do you want, colonel?'
he repeated.

'When you come back from England, Will, if I am no longer here, I want
you to ask Esther for a sealed package of papers, which I shall leave
with her. Then open the package; and the promise I want from you is
that you will do according to the wishes you will find there expressed.'

Pitt looked at the colonel in much astonishment. 'May I not know what
those wishes regard, sir?'

'They will regard all I leave behind me.'

There was in the tone of the colonel's voice, and the manner of
utterance of his words, something which showed Pitt that further
explanations were not to be had from him. He hesitated, not liking to
bind himself to anything in the dark; but finally he gave the promise
as required. He went home, however, in a doubtful mood as regarded
himself, and a very impatient one as concerned the colonel. What
ridiculous, precise notion was this that had got possession of him? How
little was he able to comprehend the nature or the needs of his little
daughter; and what disagreeable office might he have laid upon Pitt in
that connection? Pitt revolved these things in a fever of impatience
with the colonel, who had demanded such a pledge from him, and with
himself, who had given it. 'I have been a fool for once in my life!'
thought he.

Mr. and Mrs. Dallas were in the sitting-room, where Pitt went in. They
had been watching for his return, though they took care not to tell him
so.

'How's your friend the colonel to-day?' his father asked, willing to
make sure where his son had been.

'He thinks he is dying,' Pitt answered, in no very good humour.

'He has been thinking that for the last two years.'

'Do you suppose there is anything in it?'

'Nothing but megrims. He's hipped, that's all. If he had some work to
do--that he _must_ do, I mean--it's my belief he would be a well man
to-day; and know it, too.'

'He honestly thinks he's dying. Slowly, of course, but surely.'

'Pity he ever left the army,' said Mrs. Dallas. 'He is one of those men
who don't bear to be idle.'

'That's all humankind!' said her husband. 'Nobody bears to be idle.
Can't do it without running down.'

'Still,' said P