fever; her absence fretted him, too, for no one else seemed to understand
quite as well how to wait upon him; and besides, he was not altogether
satisfied with himself; not entirely sure that the course he had adopted
was the right one. Could he only have got rid of all doubts of the
righteousness and justice of the sentence he had pronounced upon her, it
would have been a great relief. He was very proud, a man of indomitable
will, and very jealous of his authority; and between these on the one
hand, and his love for his child and desire for her presence, on the
other, a fierce struggle had been raging in his breast all the afternoon.

As soon as she dared leave the table Elsie stole out into the garden,
there to indulge her grief, unseen by any but the eye of God.

She paced up and down her favorite walk, weeping and sobbing bitterly.
Presently her attention was attracted by the galloping of a horse down
the avenue, and raising her head, she saw that it was the physician,
returning from a visit to her father. It was not his usual hour for
calling, and she at once conjectured that her father was worse. Her first
impulse was to hasten to him, but instantly came the recollection that he
had banished her from his presence, and sinking down upon a bank, she
burst into a fresh paroxysm of grief. It was so hard--so _very_ hard--to
know that he was ill and suffering, and not to be permitted to go to him.

At length she could bear it no longer, and springing up she hurried into
the house, and gliding softly up the stairs, stationed herself at her
papa's door, determined to intercept some one passing in or out, and
inquire how he was.

She had not been long there when her Aunt Adelaide came out, looking
troubled and anxious.