is fingers as he read; but the news amounted to little, after all.

"For fear dear Sophie and you should feel anxious about Mr. Bressant, I
will tell you all I know of his absence," said the letter. "A telegram
came for him yesterday morning about ten. Joanna, the servant, who took
it up to him, says Mr. Reynolds told her it was from New York. So I
suppose some friend there--you will probably be able to say who--has
been taken very dangerously ill, or perhaps is dead. The summons must
have been very urgent, for he left his room not ten minutes afterward,
and took the half-past ten o'clock train down.

"I feel sure he will be back by to-morrow evening. Don't let your
daughters fail to be here to meet him."

After reading this, and without pausing to indulge in casuistry,
Professor Valeyon betook himself straight to Sophie's chamber.

"You've heard something!" said she, in a low, assured tone the moment he
entered. "A letter? give it me--I would rather read it myself."

The professor gave it into her hand, with a smile; but Sophie's eyes
were too deep and dark for any smile to glimmer through. As she opened
it he turned his back upon her, and saw out of the window the sinking
sun redden the snow-covered hill-top above the road.

"Yes, I'm sure he will be back to-morrow," said Sophie's quiet voice
after a minute or two. She made no comment on his having allowed any
thing to take him away at such a time--on the eve of his
marriage--without first sending word to her; but gave Abbie's letter
back into her father's keeping, and lay with closed eyes. He sat down in
the chair by the bedside, and presently noticed that she lay more
peacefully, and breathed inaudibly and easily, and that the feverish
flush was leaving her cheeks. A slight moisture, too, made itself
perceptible on her forehead.

"Her life is in this fellow's hand!" thought the professor, and he
trembled to his very heart, but dared not ask himself wherefore.

"Do you really think it would hurt me to sew, dear papa?" said she, at
length, looking up from her pillow.

"Better let sewing and every thing else alone for the present, my dear;
it'll be enough work to get all well again by next Sunday."

Sophie sighed. "I did so want to finish my wedding-dress all myself,"
said she. "It needs only a few hours' work now, and Cornelia is so busy
on her own account, it's hard to ask her. Oh, yes! dear papa, I know how
glad she'd be to help me," she added quickly, see