The colonel still rubbed his head thoughtfully. Esther kept her position, in readiness for some new objection. The next words, however, surprised her.
'I have sometimes thought,'—the colonel's fingers were all the while going through and through his hair; the action indicating, as such actions do, the mental movement and condition, 'I have sometimes thought lately that perhaps I was doing you a wrong in keeping you here.'
'Here, papa?—in New York?'
'No. In America.'
'In America! Why, sir?'
'Your family, my family, are all on the other side. You would have friends if you were there,—you would have opportunities,—you would not be alone. And in case I am called away, you would be in good hands. I do not know that I have the right to keep you here.'
'Papa, I like to be where you like to be. Do not think of that. Why did we come away from England in the first place?'
The colonel was silent, with a gloomy brow.
'It was nothing better than a family quarrel,' he said.
'About what? Do you mind telling me, papa?'