Had a mere jest ever before brought such a train of
miseries? Her fingers laid restless folds in a piece of paper she took
up, and her father after his greeting went on with the accounts. It was
his habit to give people time, and he had found that doing it gave him
the best opportunity to take his own bearings. His judgments were
usually so accurate, and his decisions so wise that a good many people
would have been thankful to find the scales by which he weighed the
anxiety or the satisfaction that came under his observation. On that
morning the rapid pen travelled several times up and down columns of
figures and noted down the results before Elizabeth began:
"Father." It was a small beginning, and followed by silence. But the
tone made Mr. Royal push his work aside, and look full into his
daughter's face. "Father," she repeated, "I want you to advise me."
"Am I not always ready for that?" returned Mr. Royal, his smile fading
before the gravity of her expression.
"There is something so hard to be done," she answered.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133