Ah, those lingering touches of tenderness, how they overpowered me! I did not wish to let my father see me cry, like a weak girl; but I put my hands on my eyes to conceal my tears. He did care for me, though he expressed it so little; and when he said that, I was glad too, that I was still to bear my father's name--glad of this one proof of Harry's regard, and proud of the self-relinquishment--the devotion he showed to me. There was a considerable pause after that--we did not seem at our ease, any one of us, and when I glanced up again, Harry, though he looked relieved, was still heated and embarrassed, and watched my father eagerly. He cleared his voice a great many times, as if to speak--changed his position, glanced at me; but did not seem able to say anything after all. My father had a faint smile upon his face--though it was a smile, I did not think it a pleasant one--and I was quite silent, with a vague fear of what was to follow. But nothing followed to confirm my alarm. When my father spoke again it was quite in his usual tone. "Then, with this one change--which, by the bye, requires our instant attention as to the papers and everything necessary--our arrangements stand as before; and you leave Cambridge on Tuesday, and return in a month, either here or to some house which Mr. Osborne may find for you. Osborne is your agent, I understand? You leave these matters in his hands? Now, I must know the hour you will leave me--how you are to travel, and where you will go first; and if I may depend certainly on the time of your return?" "We will fix it for any time you choose," said Harry, quickly and with an air of relief. "I will be only too proud to bring Hester home, and to see her in her own settled house; but you must give us our moon; we have a right to that--_I_ have a right to that. You will not grudge us our charmed holiday. I shall be content to have no other all my life." My father looked at him with a smile, almost of scorn, but it soon settled into a fixed and stern gravity. "I will not grudge your pleasure--no," he said, in the tone of a monitor who means to imply "it is all vanity," "but I wish to have your assurance that I may trust your word. And you, Hester, are you nearly ready to go away from me?" "Oh! papa, papa!" I cried wildly. Was he disposed to regret me at last? "Nay, nay, child, we must have no lamentations," said my father, "no weeping for the house you leave behind. On the verge of your life be sparing of your tears, Hester--if you have not occasion for them all one day or another you will be strangely favored. Are you ready? tell me? I have been hard upon you sometimes; I am not a man of genial temper, and what kindness was in me was soured. There--I apologize to you, Hester, for wounding your sensibilities--they distress me; and now answer my question." "I will be ready," I said. This dreadful coldness of his always drove me into a sullen gloom.