"I kept my promise, papa, and called you. Indeed I did," she added, as Mr. Arnott shook his head, "though I acknowledge I did it very softly."
"Ah, Florence! we are told of people who, only seeming to keep their promises, are said 'to keep the word of promise to the ear;' but you did not even keep yours to the ear, at least not to my ear, for I heard nothing of your call."
"But you believe I did call you, papa," said Florence, earnestly.
"Certainly, my daughter, I believe what you tell me, but I would have you remember that promises should be kept in the sense in which they are made, and that, though it should be at some inconvenience to ourselves."
"I will remember it, papa, but it was your inconvenience I was thinking of, when I did not awake you," said Florence, smiling.
"I do not doubt that," said her father.
While Mr. Arnott and I were conversing, Florence was called out of the parlor, and as soon as the door closed on her, he interrupted some observation he was making on the state of the roads, to say, "I am truly obliged to you for coming so quickly, for it is necessary that I should leave home immediately on very important business, which I will more fully explain to you before I go; yet I have not been willing even to announce my intention of going, till my poor wife could have the support of your presence."
When Florence returned, Mr. Arnott asked, "Where is Rover, that he does not come to share my breakfast this morning?"
"Why, is my old friend Rover still alive?" said I; "I wonder he has not been here to welcome me."
"He would have been, I dare say, Aunt Kitty, for Rover never forgets his friends, but he is three miles away from here now," and in spite of Florence's efforts to speak carelessly, her voice trembled.