“Yes, darling,” he said, kissing her again and again, “mamma was just like the twilight—sweet, tender, and soothing.”
“Then I am not at all like mamma?” she remarked, a little sadly.
“And why?”
“Because I am strong and full of life. I always feel as though it was just daylight. I never feel tired, papa, I only feel hushed.”
“Heaven grant my daughter may never be weary,” he said, and stooped to kiss her, while he brushed away a tear which started as he did so.
“I shall never be weary while I have you, papa. You will never leave me, will you?”
“I hope to be spared many years to guard and love my charge.”
A few days after, Dawn was surprised to find the governess, of whom her father had spoken, in the library, and her father with his carpet-bag packed, ready for a journey.
“Am I not going too, papa?” she said, turning on him her face, as though her heart was ready to burst with grief. It was their first parting, and equally hard for parent and child.
“Not this time, darling, but in the summer we shall go to the sea-shore and the mountains, and take Miss Vernon with us. Come, this is your teacher, Dawn; I want you to be very good and obedient while I am away,” and then, looking at his watch, he bade them both adieu.