"Forgive me," she said. "I will try and do as you wish; and if I cannot be a comfort to you, will try at least not to be a burden."
And without saying another word, she left the room.
For a moment her father stood lost in thought. "Strange child," he said. "I wonder what she meant? How could she comfort me? Girls are so difficult to understand; and yet I would fain do my duty by her, poor child! And she has a fine face, too, and splendid head. Her brow reminds me more of my grandfather's than any of the boys do, and he was one of the greatest mathematicians of his day. Strange, is it not?"
Then ringing the bell for a lamp, he resumed his studies, and Priscilla was forgotten. She was "only a girl."
[CHAPTER III.]
A BAPTISM.
"Jesus, bless our little one
With the shining hair!
We would hold our treasure safe
'Neath a Father's care."
THE quiet baptism was over, and Dr. Warner, who had been much overcome during the ordinance, had left the room, followed by the vicar.
The sponsors alone remained behind—Priscilla holding the babe in her arms, a strong gust of love towards the helpless little one filling her heart; and silently she was asking help to be faithful to the vows she had taken as regarded the upbringing of the child. So absorbed in thought had she become, that she had not observed that Miss Vernon also had left, leaving her alone with Harry Lascelles.
These two were fast friends, though the young navy doctor was ten years her senior. He was an orphan, brought up from early childhood by his maternal grandfather, the vicar of the parish, part of which was in the town of Hereford, in the suburbs of which Dr. Warner's residence, "The Grove," was situated.