concluded to build, renting in the meantime a comfortable suite of apartments for himself, while Carmen continued to live as heretofore in the Sisters’ house; giving the smaller children a few hour’s instruction, and passing the rest of the day with her father.  She had regained all her vivacity of manner, for she considered her dear father her protector and support; little guessing that it was, in reality, quite the contrary, as he looked to her as his stay on which to lean.  When alone with him, she allowed her naturally gay humor to have full sway, and he would smile contentedly when he heard her exquisite voice warbling forth, now a hymn, now a Spanish love-song, or when he saw her feet, as if inspired, try a half-forgotten Spanish dance, which seemed like a greeting to him from that tropical world where he had loved and suffered.  Sometimes she would caress him with pretty, fascinating ways, as if her heart longed to lavish on him all the tenderness which had been gathering intensity during all the long years of separation.

“You are so like Inez!  Gay and merry, like her,” he would say with emotion, his eyes beaming with love.  Thus she would succeed in charming away, for a few moments at least, the shadow which rested ever on his brow; and this success gave her a pure happiness she had never known before.

As the invalid grew stronger, every one hastened to visit him.  The elders wanted a full account of his missionary work in Mongolia, and of the religious condition of the heathen in Bengal and the Himalayas; so Mauer was at last obliged to consent to give a public narration of his experiences.  This could not fail to give him a certain degree of importance in the settlement, and it was suggested that he be elected to some public office.  But he divested their minds of any such thought, and desired to be allowed a quiet and retired life; he was too modest and reserved to put himself forward at any time, and now anything like publicity was positively painful to him.  Even when chatting socially with old friends, he displayed more or less shyness, and especially when Jonathan was present.

“A strange sort of friendship!” thought Carmen, as she noticed how her father never sought the doctor’s society, but, on the contrary, seemed to tolerate his company with a kind of bitter endurance, as if he were in some secret way the master and Mauer the slave.  Often, when Jonathan addressed him, he would suddenly change color and an involuntary expression of terror pass over his countenance; then the physician’s words would assume a slightly scornful tone, and Mauer would humbly lower his eyes.

A few days after Jonathan’s visit, he inquired how the prescribed medicine had affected him.

“Most beneficially,” replied Mauer.  “I feel stronger in every way.”

“Just as I thought,” said the other, smiling kindly.  “I ordered fifteen drops, but now you can begin to take twenty; that will not be too strong—­but positively not more, dear Brother.”