Rising, he took her in his arms again for a moment, she still sobbing, but saying not a word, then putting her gently aside, he left the room.
To her surprise her dinner of bread and milk was presently brought up by Agnes, who set it down and went out without exchanging a word with her.
The same thing occurred at supper-time.
Lulu began to be filled with curiosity not unmingled with apprehension, but was too proud to question the girl.
All through the afternoon and evening her thoughts dwelt much upon what her father had said to her, and the words and tender tones of his prayer rang in her ears and melted her heart. Beside she had become thoroughly convinced that what he had said he would do, so that there was no hope of release until won by obedience.
She was disappointed that he did not come with her supper nor afterward, for she had almost resolved to submit. She cried herself to sleep that night, feeling such a love for her father as she had never known before, and an intense longing for his kiss of forgiveness.
She became not willing only, but eager to do his bidding that she might receive it.
In the morning she dressed herself with neatness and care and impatiently awaited his coming. She was sure it must be long past the usual hour when at last the door opened and Violet came in with the waiter of bread and milk.
She set it down and turned to the little girl, who stood gazing at her in silent surprise.
"Lulu, dear, your father is very ill," she said in tones quivering with emotion, and then the child noticed that there were traces of tears about her eyes and on her cheeks, "He was in terrible pain all night, and is very little better this morning," she went on. "O Lulu, I had a dear, dear father once, and he was taken ill very much as yours has been and—in a few days. Oh, how I loved him! and while he lived I thought I was a good daughter to him, for I don't remember ever being wilfully disobedient, but after he was gone my heart reproached me with having neglected opportunities to give him pleasure, and not having always obeyed quite so promptly and cheerfully as I might, and I would have given worlds to go back and be and do all I ought."