It seemed passing strange, and the thought that perhaps his cruelty had so estranged her from him that she no longer cared for his presence or his love, caused him many a bitter pang, and at times rendered him so desperate that, but for the doctor’s repeated warnings, he would have ended this torturing suspense by going to her, and begging to hear from her own lips whether she had indeed ceased to love him.

Adelaide tried to comfort and encourage him to wait patiently, but she, too, thought it very strange, and began to have vague fears that something was wrong with her little niece.

She wondered that Dr. Barton treated the matter so lightly.

“But, then,” thought she, “he has no idea how strongly the child was attached to her father, and therefore her strange silence on the subject does not strike him as it does us.  I will ask if I may not venture to mention Horace to her.”

But when she put the question, the doctor shook his head.

“No,” he said; “better let her broach the subject herself; it will be much the safer plan.”

Adelaide reluctantly acquiesced in his decision, for she was growing almost as impatient as her brother.  But fortunately she was not kept much longer in suspense.

The next day Elsie, who had been lying for some time wide awake, but without speaking, suddenly asked:  “Aunt Adelaide, have you heard from Miss Allison since she went away?”

“Yes, dear, a number of times,” replied her aunt, much surprised at the question; “once since you were taken sick, and she was very sorry to hear of your illness.”

“Dear Miss Rose, how I want to see her,” murmured the little girl musingly.  “Aunt Adelaide,” she asked quickly, “has there been any letter from papa since I have been sick?”

“Yes, dear,” said Adelaide, beginning to tremble a little; “one, but it was written before he heard of your illness.”

“Did he say when he would sail for America, Aunt Adelaide?” she asked eagerly.

“No, dear,” replied her aunt, becoming still more alarmed, for she feared the child was losing her reason.

“Oh, Aunt Adelaide, do you think he will ever come home?  Shall I ever see him?  And do you think he will love me?” moaned the little girl.

“I am sure he does love you, darling, for indeed he mentions you very affectionately in his letters,” Adelaide said, bending down to kiss the little pale cheek.  “Now go to sleep, dear child,” she added, “I am afraid you have been talking quite too much, for you are very weak yet.”

Elsie was, in fact, quite exhausted, and closing her eyes, fell asleep directly.

Then resigning her place to Chloe, Adelaide stole softly from the room, and seeking her brother, repeated to him all that had just passed between Elsie and herself.  She simply told her story, keeping her doubts and fears confined to her own breast; but she watched him closely to see if he shared them.