There was a short pause, and then she summoned courage to ask a question—one of the utmost importance, and the asking of which cost her a great effort. She rose from her stool and stood in front of her father, her hands clasped behind her and tightly locked.
"Father," she said, timidly.
"What is it, my darling?"
"I want you to look at me very, very hard. Do you think—you—can—bear the sight of me?"
"My child, what on earth do you mean? You are the most beautiful sight in the world to me."
He put his arms around her and drew her down to his knee. Elizabeth hid her face on his shoulder and cried with relief.
It was indeed a happy Elizabeth who went to bed that night, and the next morning when she awoke and remembered that her father was actually in the house, she was obliged to pinch herself to make sure that it was not all a dream.
When she went down to breakfast there he was, waiting to kiss her for good-morning, and Elizabeth felt that she was at last like other girls with a father to love her, and she should soon have a brother also, for Valentine had already been sent for, and would hereafter make his home with them in the house which their father intended to buy.
Elizabeth rather dreaded Val's coming, for she feared that he had not yet forgiven her for telling their aunt of his previous visit; but when he arrived, a few days later, she found that he was ready to acknowledge that his sister had done right, and that it was he who had been in the wrong.
The morning after Mr. Herrick's return the father and daughter had a long conversation, and Elizabeth was able to ask him about the subjects which most interested her. One question related to her drawing-lessons, which her father readily promised that she should take. The other was in regard to the mystery of the locked door.