"
"Why, father!" It seemed as if my blood were instantly on fire. My
face was, of course, all in a glow. I was confounded, and, let me
confess it, indignant; it seemed so like a tyrannical outrage.
"It is simply as I say, my daughter." He spoke without visible
excitement. "I cannot afford the expense this season, and you will,
therefore, all have to remain in the city."
"That's impossible!" said I. "I couldn't live here through the
summer."
"_I_ manage to live!" There was a tone in my father's voice, as he
uttered these simple words, partly to himself, that rebuked me. Yes,
he did manage to live, but _how_? Witness his pale face, wasted
form, subdued aspect, brooding silence, and habitual abstraction of
mind!
"_I_ manage to live!" I hear the rebuking words even now--the tones
in which they were uttered are in my ears. Dear father! Kind,
tender, indulgent, long-suffering, self-denying! Ah, how little were
you understood by your thoughtless, selfish children!
"Let my sisters and mother go," said I, a new regard for my father
springing up in my heart; "I will remain at home with you."
"Thank you, dear child!" he answered, his voice suddenly veiled with
feeling. "But I cannot afford to let any one go this season."
"The girls will be terribly disappointed. They have set their hearts
on going," said I.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But necessity knows no law.
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