slightest sign
of that habitual fear which was always aroused within his bosom by
visitations from Plumstead. Had Mrs. Arabin thoroughly understood the
difference in her father's feeling toward herself and toward her
sister, I think she would hardly have gone forth upon any tour while
he remained with her in the deanery. It is very hard sometimes to
know how intensely we are loved, and of what value our presence is to
those who love us! Mrs. Grantly saw the look,--did not analyse it, did
not quite understand it,--but felt, as she had so often felt before,
that it was not altogether laden with welcome. But all this had
nothing to do with the duty on which she had come; nor did it, in the
slightest degree, militate against her own affection. "Papa," she
said, kissing him, "you are surprised to see me so early?"

"Well, my dear, yes;--but very glad all the same. I hope everybody is
well at Plumstead?"

"Everybody, thank you, papa."

"That is well. Posy and I are getting ready for church. Are we not,
Posy?"

"Grandpapa is getting ready. Mrs. Baxter won't let me go."

"No, my dear, no,--not yet, Posy. When Posy is a great girl she can
go to the cathedral every day. Only then, perhaps, Posy won't want to
go."

"I thought that, perhaps, papa, you would sit with me a little while
this morning, instead of going to morning prayers."

"Certainly, my dear,--certainly. Only I do not like not going;--for
who can say how often I may be able to go again? There is so little
left, Susan,--so very little left."

After that she had not the heart to ask him to stay, and therefore
she went with him. As they passed down the stairs and out of the
doors she was astonished to find how weak were his footsteps,--how
powerless he was against the slightest misadventure. On this very
day he would have tripped at the upward step at the cathedral door
had she not been with him. "Oh, papa," she said, "indeed, indeed,
you should not come here alone." Then he apologised for his little
stumble with many words and much shame, assuring her that anybody
might trip on an occasion. It was purely an accident; and though it
was a comfort to him to have had her arm, he was sure that he would
have recovered himself even had he been alone. He always, he said,
kept quite close to the wall, so that there might be no mistake,--no
possibility of an accident. All this he said volubly, but with
confused words, in the covered stone passage leading into the
tra