"It seems very hard," she murmured, after a pause; "I never saw Captain Molyneux but once, and I was only ten years old."
"How old are you now?" asked the doctor, who knew not what to say to this poor stricken heart.
"Fifteen."
"Poor child!" said he, compassionately; "the trials of life are coming upon you early; but," he added, with a desperate effort at condolence, "do not be so despairing; whatever may be the result, you are, after all, in the path of duty; and that is the safest and the best for us all in the end, however hard it may seem to be in the present."
Just then the General's voice interrupted his little homily, sounding querulously and impatiently: "Zillah! Zillah!"
She sprang to his bedside: "Here I am, dear papa."
"Will you do as I wish?" he asked, abruptly.
"Yes," said Zillah, with an effort at firmness which cost her dear. Saying this, she kissed him; and the beam of pleasure which at this word lighted up the wan face of the sick man touched Zillah to the heart. She felt that, come what might, she had received her reward.
"My sweetest, dutiful child," said the General, tenderly; "you have made me happy, my darling. Now get your desk and write for him at once. You must not lose time, my child."
This unremitting pressure upon her gave Zillah a new struggle, but the General exhibited such feverish impatience that she dared not resist. So she went to a Davenport which stood in the corner of the room, and saying, quietly, "I will write here, papa," she seated herself, with her back toward him.