“When did she see her father?”
“This morning. The master always comes up every morning after breakfast to see Miss Harper.”
And they would never see one another again, this helpless father and daughter—never, till they met bodiless, in the next world!
For the moment Agatha felt her courage fail She glided quickly from the door, but came back again. Elizabeth had waked, and called her.
“What is the matter? I know something is the matter.”
“Do tell her,” whispered the maid, “She'll find it out anyhow—she finds out everything. And she has been so ill all day.”
Agatha entered. There was no deceiving those eyes.
“Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth—your father—it is very hard, but—your father”—She hesitated; it was so difficult to convey, even in gentlest words, the cruel truth. Miss Harper regarded her keenly. The bearer of ill-tidings is always soon betrayed, and Agatha's was not a face to disguise anything. Elizabeth's head dropped back on the pillow.
“I perceive. He is an old man. He has gone home before me. My dear father!”
The perfect composure with which she said this astonished Agatha. She did not understand how near Elizabeth always lived to the unknown world, and how welcome and beautiful it was in her familiar sight.