ce close to hers whining with delight. Tears
of joy almost blinded the doctor as he pushed Paragon aside, and said
eagerly--

"Irene, one dog is as good as another! You know Paragon, do you know me,
Queen?"

"Certainly--I know you, Doctor."

"God bless you, beauty! You haven't known me for a week."

"I am so thirsty--please give me some water."

He lifted her head, and she drank eagerly, till he checked her.

"There--we haven't all turned hydropathists since you were taken sick.
Nellie! I say, Nellie! you witch of Endor! bring some wine-whey here.
Irene, how do you feel, child?"

"Very tired and feeble, sir. My head is confused. Where is father?"

"Here I am, my daughter."

He bent down with trembling lips and kissed her, for the first time since
the day of their estrangement, nearly three years before. She put her arms
feebly around his neck, and as he held her to his heart, she felt a tear
drop on her forehead.

"Father, have you forgiven me?"

He either could not or would not answer, but kissed her again warmly; and,
as he disengaged her arms and left the room, she felt assured that at last
she had been forgiven. She took the whey silently, and, after some moments,
said--

"Doctor, have you been sitting by me a long time?"

"I rather think I have!--losing my sleep for nearly ten days, you
unconscionable young heathen."

"Have I been so ill as to require that? I have a dim recollection of going
on a long journey, and of your being by my side all the way."

"Well, I hope you travelled to your entire satisfaction, and found what,
you wanted--for you were feeling about as if hunting for something, the
whole time. Oh! I am so thankful that you know me once more. Child, you
have cost me a deal of sorrow. Now be quiet, and go to sleep again; at
least, don't talk to Nellie or Paragon. I shall take a nap on the sofa in
the library."

She regained her strength very slowly, and many days elapsed before she was
able to leave her room. One bright sunny morning she sat before the open
window, looking down on the lawn where the pigeons flashed in and out of
the hedges, and now and then glancing at the bouquet of choice hot-house
flowers in the vase beside her. In her lap lay a letter just received from
Harvey Young--a letter full of fond remembrance, grave counsel, and gentle
encouragement--and the unbent lines about her mouth showed that her mind
was troubled.

The doctor came in and drew up a chair.

"I sh