nk."

"Then you'd catch your death," said Mrs. Copley. "That inner room is
very chill now. For my part, I do not want to see another picture again
in days and days. My head swims with looking at them. I don't see what
you find in the old things."

Dolly could not have told. She sighed, and it was agreed that they
would drive about the city and its environs next day; Lawrence assuring
them that it was one of the pleasantest towns in Germany. But the next
morning early came the letters from Mr. Copley; one to his wife and one
to Dolly.

Dolly read them both and pondered them; and was unsatisfied. They were
rather cheerful letters; at the same time Mr. Copley informed his wife
and daughter that he could not join them in Dresden; nor at any rate
before they got to Venice. So much was final; but what puzzled and
annoyed Dolly yet more than this delay was the amount of money he
remitted to her. To her, for Mrs. Copley, as an invalid, it was agreed,
should not be burdened with business. So the draft came in the letter
to Dolly; and it was not half large enough. Dolly kept the draft, gave
the letter to her mother to read, and sat in a mazed kind of state,
trying to bring her wits to a focus upon this condition of affairs.

What was her father thinking of? It is one thing to be short of funds
at home, in one's own country and in one's own house; it is bad enough
even there; what is it when one is in a strange land and dependent upon
the shelter of other people's houses, for which an equivalent must be
paid in money? and when one is obliged to travel from one place to
another, and every mile of the way demands another equivalent in money?
Mr. Copley had sent a little, but Dolly knew it would by no means take
them to Venice. What did he intend? or what did he expect her to do?
Apply to Lawrence? Never! No, not under any pressure or combination
that could be brought to bear. He would demand an equivalent too; or
worse, think that it was guaranteed, if she made such an application.
How could Mr. Copley place his child in such a predicament? And then
Dolly's head went down in her hands, for the probable answer crushed
her. He never would, he never could, but for yielding to unworthy
indulgences; becoming entangled in low pleasures; taken possession of
by the influence of unprincipled men. Her father!--Dolly felt as if her
heart would break or her head burst with its burden of pain,--"Oh, a
father never should let his child feel a