She kissed him, trembling, with timid affection answering to his tenderness-- 'Good-bye, papa,' she said, and added in a whisper, 'Won't you some day live with mamma and me again? We would try to make you happy, and I am learning to understand all about Art.' 'Ah, well, some day perhaps,' he said hastily, and disengaged himself from her twining arms. I thought he was going out without any further greeting to me, but close to the door he stopped, and giving me a stolid frown, jerked his head slowly back in the direction of his daughter; then, with a menacing nod to remind me of his warning, he left the room and the house. A minute later I saw him blubbering,--there is no other word for it,--like a great overgrown child as he went down the drive. I waited at the window on purpose to give Babiole time to recover enough serenity to bridge over the awkwardness of the situation. The startling necessity of the case restored her to full self-command much sooner than I had expected. After a very few minutes, during which I heard her sobs die away like a child's into silence, I ventured to turn round, and found her with red swollen eyelids and a very sad little face, but perfectly calm. She rose from her chair in quite a dignified way, and said-- 'We have kept you from your work, I am afraid, Mr. Maude,' with the odd primness which I could remember as one of her earliest characteristics. 'Not at all. I--I was not busy,' I answered, with frozen stiffness. For the moment I dared not speak to her, except under this ridiculous mask of frigidity; such a lot of indiscreet emotions were bubbling up in me, ready to burst into rash speech at the first opening. She seemed a little dismayed by my coldness, and hung her head in what I knew to be shame at her father's clumsy show of mistrust. 'Well, you shall have a little peace now at least,' she said, without looking at me, as she crossed to the door. 'And to-day's lessons?' I asked rather abruptly. 'I think I will ask you to excuse me to-day,' she said in a trembling voice. 'Certainly,' said I, with an involuntary bow, which caused her to look up and redden at this unusual ceremoniousness. The old footing was, for a time at least, completely destroyed. 'Good-afternoon, Mr. Maude,' she said. 'Good-afternoon,' I repeated. But, as she took another step and reached the screen, her shy glance met mine; impulsively she stretched out her hand. I seized it, and for one brief minute we looked straight into each other's eyes with the frank confidence of our old friendship: the next, she had broken away, and I was left alone with silent To-to and sympathetic Ta-ta. END OF VOL. I _G. C. & Co._ _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_. End of Project Gutenberg's A Witch of the Hills, v. 1-2, by Florence Warden