And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. " Her attitude now entirely sisterly, he ceased to be afraid of her; there was never anything in her eyes (so far as he could see) but friendly interest in all he said or did. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. His absence was thought by the charitable to be from grief. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. .
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