g cloud. From
Sara there came no letters.

Olive wrote once or twice, even thrice. But a sense of wounded feeling
prevented her writing again. Robert and Lyle told her their sister was
quite well, and very merry. Then, over all the dream of sweet affection
fell a cold silence.

In Olive's own home were arising many cares. A great change came
over her father. His economical habits became those of the wildest
extravagance--extravagance in which his wife and daughter were not
likely to share. Little they saw of it either, save during his rare
visits to his home. Then he either spent his evenings out, or else
dining, smoking, drinking, disturbed the quiet house at Oldchurch.

Many a time, till long after midnight, the mother and child sat
listening to the gay tumult of voices below; clinging to each other,
pale and sad. Not that Captain Rothesay was unkind, or that either had
any fear for him, for he had always been a strict and temperate man. But
it pained them to think that any society seemed sweeter to him than that
of his wife and daughter--that any place was become dearer to him than
his home.

One night, when Mrs. Rothesay appeared exhausted, either with weariness
or sorrow of heart, Olive persuaded her mother to go to rest, while she
herself sat up for her father.

"Nay, let some of the servants do that, not you, my child."

But Olive, innocent as she was, had accidentally seen the footman smile
rudely when he spoke of "master coming home last night;" and a vague
thought struck her, that such late hours were discreditable in the head
of a family. Her father should not be despised in his servant's eyes.

She dismissed the household, and waited up for him alone.
Twelve--one--two. The hours went by like long years. Heavily at first
drooped her poor drowsy eyes, and then all weariness was dispelled by
a feeling of loneliness--an impression of coming sorrow. At last,
when this was gradually merging into fear, she heard the sound of the
swinging gate, and her father's knock at the door--A loud, unsteady,
angry knock.

"Why do you stay up for me? I don't want anybody to sit up," grumbled
Captain Rothesay, without looking at her.

"But I liked to wait for you, papa."

"What, is that you, Olive?" and he stepped in with a lounging, heavy
gait.

"Did you not see me before? It was I who opened the door."

"Oh, yes--but--I was thinking of something else," he said, throwing
himself into the study-chair, and trying