s and
dependence?--might not the whole scheme be one to which he would offer
opposition? From conflicts like these she came back to the dreary
present and wondered what could still delay his coming. It was a road
but little travelled; and as she sat watching at the window, her eyes
grew wearied piercing the hazy atmosphere, darkening deeper and deeper
as night drew near. She endeavored to occupy herself in various ways:
she made little preparations for his coming; she settled his room
neatly, over and over; she swept the hearth, and made a cheerful fire to
greet him; and then, passing into the kitchen, she looked after the
humble dinner that awaited him. Six o'clock passed, and another weary
hour followed. Seven,--and still he came not. She endeavored to divert
her thoughts into thinking of the future she had pictured to herself.
She tried to fancy the scenery, the climate, the occupation of that
dream-land over the seas; but at every bough that beat against the
window by the wind, at every sound of the storm without, she would start
up, and hasten to the door to listen.

It was now near eight o'clock; and so acute had her hearing become by
intense anxiety that she could detect the sounds of a footfall coming
along the plashy road. She did not venture to move, lest she should lose
the sound, and she dreaded, too, lest it should pass on. She bent down
her head to hear; and now, oh, ecstasy of relief! she heard the latch of
the little wicket raised, and the step upon the gravel-walk within. She
rushed at once to the door, and, dashing out into the darkness, threw
herself wildly upon his breast, saying, "Thank God you are come! Oh, how
I have longed for you, dearest, dearest father!" And then as suddenly,
with a shriek, cried out, "Who is it? Who is this?"

"Conway,--Charles Conway. A friend,--at least, one who would wish to be
thought so."

With a wild and rapid utterance she told him of her long and weary
watch, and that her fears--mere causeless fears, she said she knew they
were--had made her nervous and miserable. Her father's habits, always so
regular and homely, made even an hour's delay a source of anxiety.
"And then he had not been well for some days back,--circumstances had
occurred to agitate him; things preyed upon him more heavily than they
had used. Perhaps it was the dreary season--perhaps their solitary kind
of life--had rendered them both more easily depressed. But, somehow--"
She could not go on; but h