ip. It was my intention to take you with me until
the past few days. Then matters came up that made it not feasible. I
still hoped, but that letter which came a short time since has confirmed
the necessity for leaving you."

"Dear father, tell me what the matter is? Why can't you take me? Tell me
the reason."

"I had hoped to keep it from you, my child," said Doctor Raymond with
some embarrassment. "I have been obliged to dismiss the idea for lack of
means. I have never been what you might call a money-getter, Beatrice.
Few scientists are. What money I have had has been invested in such
manner as to give us an income sufficient for our needs. Recently those
investments failed, and I have now only the salary that the University
pays me. The letter informs me that there is nothing left. My salary
will pay your expenses at college and leave a residue for my needs very
nicely. Dear child, it would not be sufficient for travel. Do you
understand matters now, Beatrice?"

"Yes, oh, yes;" uttered Bee brokenly. "I'll try to bear it, father,
but--but--"

"That is my brave little daughter," he said in such a tender voice that
Bee's tears gushed forth anew. "When next we are together perhaps I may
be able to make you happier than I have this summer. Go now, my child;
think over the matter. We will talk of it again."

He bent abruptly over some specimens, and Beatrice, sobbing quietly,
left the room.

Chapter XXVI

A Great Surprise

"The life we choose
Breathes high, and sees a full-arched firmament.
Our deeds shall speak like rock-hewn messages,
Teaching great purpose to the distant time."

--_George Eliot._

To the young all things are tragic. To Beatrice it seemed that the end
of everything had come. Now she realized that behind her objection to
Adele's presence in her home there had lurked the fear that her father's
stay would be short.

She shed no more tears, but her dry-eyed grief was more distressing for
that very reason. If Doctor Raymond hoped to talk matters over again he
reckoned without his host, for Beatrice could not speak of the
separation. The scientist was very busy and had little leisure to devote
to his daughter, but he noted with concern her lack of interest in
everything.

"Beatrice," he said to her one day, "you need some one with you. I am
obliged to be away a great deal just now, and it is lonely for you. Your
aunt has kindly consented t