d anxious for the future of her
young cousins.

"What is it, daughter?" Mr. Dinsmore asked, coming in a moment later. "I
have seldom seen you look so disturbed."

Her face brightened, as was its wont under her father's greeting, but,
this time, only momentarily.

"I am troubled, papa," she said, making room for him on the sofa by her
side. "Here is a note from Enna. The doctors give Molly no hope that she
will ever walk again. One cannot help feeling very sad for her, poor
child! and besides something Aunt Louise has been telling me, makes me
anxious for Isadore and Virginia."

He was scarcely less concerned than she, when he heard what that was. "I
shall talk to Louise," he said, "it would be the height of folly to expose
her girls to such influences. It is true I once had some thoughts of
sending you to a convent school, under the false impression that the
accomplishments were more thoroughly taught there than in the Protestant
seminaries; but with the light I have since gained upon the subject, I
know that it would have been a fearful mistake."

"Dear papa," she said, putting her hand into his and looking at him with
loving eyes, "I am so thankful to you that you did not; so thankful that
you taught me yourself. The remembrance of the hours we spent together as
teacher and pupil, has always been very sweet to me."

"To me also," he answered with a smile.

The expected guests arrived at the appointed time, Enna looking worn,
faded and fretful, Dick sad and anxious, poor Molly, weary, exhausted,
despairing; as if life had lost all brightness to her.

Her proud spirit rebelled against her helplessness, against the curious,
even the pitying looks it attracted to her from strangers in the streets
and public conveyances.

The transit from one vehicle to another was made in the strong arms of a
stalwart negro whom they had brought with them from Roselands, Dick
following closely to guard his sister from accident, and shield her as
much as possible from observation, while Enna and Cal brought up the rear.

A room on the ground floor had been appropriated to Molly's use, and
thither she was carried at once, and gently laid upon a couch. Instantly
her cousin Elsie's arms were about her, her head pillowed upon the gentle
breast, while tears of loving sympathy fell fast upon her poor pale face,
mingled with tender caresses and whispered words of endearment.

It did the child good; the tears and sobs that came in resp