Dear Mother, I am up and dressed for the first time since Monday. I feel a general prostration of the system. My husband ascribes it to over excitement. Nothing could surpass the kindness of every one in the house. I fear Frank will make himself sick from anxiety. He returns home once or twice in the forenoon, runs to my chamber for a few minutes, and then off again to another part of the town. Phebe does wonders in her line, trying to make something "Missus will relish a bit." She complains that I do not eat enough to keep a canary bird alive, and indeed I have not much appetite. Frank would not allow me to arise until after dinner, when Ann came in with a dish which would be very tempting to a person in health. I readily recognized the kind hand which selected it for me. The breast of a fat pigeon, with a nice slice of crisp toast, and an excellent cup of tea. I almost relished it. While I sat in bed bolstered by pillows with the waiter before me, madam Phebe came from the kitchen to pay me a visit. She wished to see with her own eyes why I did not eat. CHAPTER XI. Low at his feet his daughter lies; Dear father, let me stay! But no, the cruel wretch replies, Away, begone, away! His heart was crusted o'er with years Of guilt, and shame, and sin; But still his wretched daughter cries Oh! father, turn again! I'll give up all I've dearly loved, On thee my cares bestow; With scorn the gray-haired sire thus proved His hate. Go, daughter, _go_! _Friday, July 17th._ I feel a little stronger to-day. My husband came in yesterday while I was writing, and put his lordly veto upon my penning another word. I asked him if he had heard anything more from Lucy, or had received an answer from Mr. Benson. He shook his head and said, "your first business is to get well." I think Emily is disappointed in not hearing from him; and she must be surprised that he does not write, as she supposes him to be only three miles distant. She asked me in a whisper yesterday if I had sent her letter. I told her, I sent it at once, and asked, "Has he replied?" She shook her head. "He may be away, and not have received it," I suggested. "I think," I added with hesitation, "I remember to have heard he was going on a journey." She brightened at once, and I turned away from fear lest she should ask more. I am glad to have escaped her scrutiny. _Friday, July 24th._ It is a week since I wrote you, dear mother. How I have longed to have you with me! I shall soon begin to expect another packet of letters. I desire to tell you about poor Emily; but my hand trembles so much, I don't know that I ought to enter upon it.