After the repulse which had been given to Albertson, Eunice changed, but the change developed no harsh features in her character. Like a flower whose leaves have been slightly crushed, the odor thereof was sweeter. To her father she was ever gentle in her manner, and thoughtful of his comfort. This troubled him, and made him often repent of the rudeness with which he had laid his hand upon a heart so full of gentle impulses. Albertson did not attempt to visit her again, and when he met her in company, maintained toward her a reserved and distant manner corresponding with her own. But when they did thus meet, and their eyes lingered in each other’s gaze for a few brief moments, a long history of mutual love was told.
CHAPTER VIII.
AFFLICTION.
One day Mr. Townsend came home earlier in the afternoon than usual, his face wearing a troubled look. He found his wife and daughters alone in the parlors.
“I’ve just received letters from New Orleans,” he said.
“How is John?” eagerly asked Mrs. Townsend, interrupting him.
“He is sick,” was replied.
“Sick! Not dangerously, I hope?”
“I am afraid so. One of his clerks has written.”
“What is the matter with him?”
“He does not say—but I will read you his letter.”