"In a moment. Tell me, how are you yourself? You look weary, as if you had suffered."
"I have. It has been such a wretched, miserable time, almost unbearable, until my father came—always hiding, always a mystery."
"And how did Lambert—how did your father find you?"
"My father find me?" with an air of astonishment. "Ah! he will tell you everything. Come up-stairs to him."
Glynn rose to follow her with a faint feeling of disappointment. She was evidently delighted to see him, full of faith in him, but utterly devoid of that delicious consciousness which no woman in love can quite conceal; and grief for the supposed loss of this girl had almost cost him his life!—while for the present the mystery was more mysterious than ever.
Elsie led the way up a narrow stair to the upper story, the same look of neat simplicity characterizing the rest of the house, and opening the door of a good-sized bedroom, she said, "Here is Mr. Glynn, dear."
In a large arm-chair, his feet on a footstool, and covered with a warm plaid, propped by pillows, and close to a good fire, sat, or rather reclined, Lambert, a small table near him, on which stood a medicine-bottle and glass. A door leading into another room stood open.
Elsie was right. Her father was wofully changed. His cheeks were hollow; his skin yellow and wrinkled; his once half-humorous, half-defiant expression was gone, and replaced by a watchful, pitiful look, like a creature always expecting a blow, pathetic too in its wistfulness. One thin, claw-like hand grasped the arm of the chair. As he turned to gaze eagerly towards the door, a smile of pleasure, a sort of relieved look beamed over his face as Glynn advanced. "Ah! this is kind—this is like a good fellow, as I always thought you were," he whispered in a weak, tremulous voice. "I have just been wearying to see you, but afraid, afraid!" He sank back on his cushions, still holding Glynn's hand, and gazing at him imploringly.
"You know, Lambert, I am worthy of some trust, and desire nothing more than to be of service to you," said Glynn, suppressing all tokens of his immense surprise, and speaking with studied calmness. "You must not fatigue or excite yourself. Now that you have allowed me to know your address, I can come often to see you, and do anything you want in the way of commissions."
"Ah! but we must take care—we must take care." He sighed deeply, raising and letting fall his poor wasted hand with a despairing gesture.