laid lovingly on his knee.

"Papa, I am sorry." The low, street voice was tremulous with grief and
penitence.

"My poor darling, my poor little pet!" he said, passing his hand with
soft, caressing movement over her hair and cheek, "try to keep your
love for your father and your faith in his for you, however hard this
rule may seem."

"Ah, papa, my heart would break if I lost either," she sobbed. Then
lifting her tear-dimmed eyes with tender concern to his face, which
was very pale and sad, "Dear papa," she said, "how tired you look! you
were up all night, were you not?"

"Last night and the one before it."

"That you might hasten here to take care of me," she murmured in a
tone of mingled regret and gratitude. "Do lie down now and take a nap.
This couch is soft and pleasant, and I will close the blinds and sit
by your side to keep off the flies."

He yielded to her persuasions, saying as he closed his eyes, "Don't
leave the room without waking me."

She was still there when he woke, close at his side and ready to
greet him with an affectionate look and smile, though the latter was
touchingly sad and there were traces of tears on her cheeks.

"How long have I slept?" he asked.