She jerked the pins from her hair, letting the fair mass fall over her shoulders. The stand she had taken had been because of the attitude of her father. He had no right to come between her and the man she loved. Why had he done it? Her fingers paused in the act of delving for a buried hairpin, and her arm fell limply over the wing of the chair. A vision of her father’s face had come before her, startling her imagination. She saw him again as she had seen him that night when Harold had announced his intended trip to Australia. She recalled his ghostly features on the night of Harold’s return from abroad. 269 Could there be some unknown reason for her father’s actions against the young minister? And did that reason justify his action?
Her conjectures were cut short by the sound of footfalls on the stair. The tread was heavy, as though the climber were dragging himself up by main force. On the top landing he halted, and turned toward her door.
What caprices emotion plays with judgment! One moment judgment may map out a course as clear as the noonday, and the next moment emotion may lead judgment into a blind alley. Thus did the emotions of Elizabeth suddenly halt her judgment, leaving all her reason deaf, dumb, and blind.
“Beth, are you asleep?” whispered a tired, husky voice.
“No, Father. I haven’t retired yet. Come in.”
She blindly felt that her father had need of her, and although she could not understand the meaning of the battle he had been called upon to general, she must give him her aid.
Mr. Fox entered and felt his way across the 270 dark room. He found a chair and dropped into it.
“You’re in the dark, dear,” he observed.
“Yes, Father. I’ve been thinking here since twilight. Lights always interfere with my thoughts, and so I did not turn them on.”
“Why, my dear, how long you have been sitting like this! It is now nearly eleven o’clock. Your thoughts must have been pretty active.”