a lodging-house? That would be worse yet; and
for a house to themselves in London Dolly did not believe the means
were at hand.

Lately, things had been less promising. Mr. Copley seemed to be not so
ready with his money; and he did not look well. Yes, he was well, he
said when she asked him; nevertheless, her anxious eye read the old
signs. She had not noticed them during the winter, or but slightly and
rarely. Whether Mr. Copley had been making a vigorous effort to be as
good as his word and spare Dolly pain; whether his sense of character
had asserted itself, whether he had been so successful in speculation
or play that he did not need opiates and could do without irritants; I
do not know. There had been an interval. Now, Dolly began to be
conscious again of the loss of freshness, the undue flush, the weak
eyes, the unsteady mouth, the uneven gait. A stranger as yet might have
passed it all by without notice; Dolly knew the change from her
father's former quick, confident movements, iron nerves and muscular
activity. And what was almost worse than all to her, among indications
of his being entered on a downward course, she noticed that now he
avoided her eye; looked at her, but preferred not meeting her look. I
cannot tell how dreadful this was to Dolly. She had been always
accustomed, until lately, to respect her father and to see him
respected; to look at him as holding his place among men with much more
than the average of influence and power; he was apt to do what he
wished to do, and also to make other men do it. He was recognised as a
leader in all parties and plans in which he took any share; Mr.
Copley's word was quoted and Mr. Copley's lead was followed; and as is
the case with all such men, his confidence in himself had been one of
his sources of power and means of success. Dolly had been all her life
accustomed to this as the natural and normal condition of things. Now
she saw that her father had ceased to respect himself. The agony this
revelation brought to Mr. Copley's loyal little daughter, it is
impossible to tell. She felt it almost unbearable, shrank from it,
would have closed her eyes to it; but Dolly was one of those whose
vision is not clouded but rather made more keen by affection; and she
failed to see nothing that was before her.

The ministry Dolly applied to this new old trouble was of the most
exquisite kind. Without making it obtrusive, she bestowed upon her
father a sort of service the