Beatrice looked at him quickly.
"Is it hard for you, father?"
"Harder than I would like you to know, child. You know why I must go. Let us not dwell on the unpleasant part of it. After all, two years are nothing. After the first hurt of the separation is over you will find new interests, and life will once more become rosy. You are going to be brave, aren't you?"
"Yes, father," answered Bee steadily.
"That is my good little daughter. Today I will bring Adele and her mother over, and they will cheer you up. It will benefit Henry also to have the change."
"Very well," answered the girl trying to smile.
She had not seen her cousin since she left her outside old Rachel's cabin, and when evening brought Adele once more to Walnut Grove a dull wonder crept into her heart that her coming was not fraught with pain.
To her surprise there was a great difference in the manner of both her father and her cousin toward each other. Adele no longer made pert sallies at his expense after the manner of a petted child; she seemed rather subdued toward him. Bee did not fully comprehend how dissimilar was their attitude for some days, and then she came slowly to see that while Doctor Raymond was unfailingly courteous toward his niece it was to her he turned, to her wishes that he deferred. It came to her with a sort of shock that it was she herself who was first with him.
"Why! he loves me best. Father loves me best!" she said to herself in surprise. "How has it come?"
To her wonder Adele treated the fact as a matter of course, but as a full realization of the truth came to Bee her unhappiness at his going increased.