"And your father knows nothing of all this, Priscilla? Does he not sit with you in the evenings?"
"My father! Oh no, Mr. Lascelles. He is buried in his books the whole evening. You know he is engaged writing on mathematical subjects just now."
"Ah I true, true. I forget. Still, surely—ah! Well; one must not blame a father to his child. And Lewis? Why, he is the pride of his father's heart. I know your mother did fear he was a boy who would be easily led astray. And I fear—yes, yes—I too have done wrong. I should have looked after the boys a bit, knowing how absorbed your father was in his studies. Gambling too! Who would have thought of it? I wish Harry had been at home. I have no way, no influence with boys; but of course I'll see Lewis and talk to him. I will try this very afternoon to catch him as he comes out of school. I am so grieved. And, my dear, you also have been wrong, decidedly wrong. Still—" (and as he spoke he laid his hand kindly on the girl's shoulder) "you were young to have such a charge. But now let us go indoors, and we'll tell our heavenly Father all the trouble."
And he did; and the girl rose from her knees comforted, and saying good-bye to her friend, took her way once more to the cottage whither she had been bound, and after speaking a few kind words to the sick child and others there, went home longing for the hour of Austin's return, when she might take counsel with him.
As she neared home she met her father with a letter in his hand.
"Priscilla," he said, "I have just met young M'Ivor, and asked him to tell Austin I wished him after school to take the train and go to Garnet Hall to deliver a letter to my friend Mr. Harris, which I wish him to get this evening, as it is on a matter of importance. They are sure to detain Austin for the night, so you will understand his not coming home. Are you well, my daughter?" he added; for the girl had suddenly turned pale.
Austin away from home at the very time she needed him so much!
It was a trial; but she mastered herself, and said, "I am quite well, father; why do you ask?"
Her colour had returned, and as the professor looked again at her, he thought he had been mistaken, and said, "I see I was wrong. I thought you looked pale and tired; but no doubt it was my eyes. I often think they deceive me now-a-days. Ah, me! What would I do if my sight failed me? You won't expect Austin to dinner, at all events."
And he walked off, leaving Priscilla with a very heavy heart.