When Hilda sat in the sunshine near the river, her father often walked aimlessly in her neighborhood, eyeing her with almost embarrassed glances, always averted hastily if her eyes met his. Hilda had submitted passively to all the material changes of her life; she saw them only vaguely, concentrated on that restless inner torture. But one day, as her father lingered indeterminately around her, switching his fishing-rod, looking hastily into his fishing-basket, and showing evident signs of perplexity and indecision very clumsily concealed, a sudden thought of her own egotistic self-absorption struck her, and a sudden sense of method underlying the Captain's manoeuvres. "Papa, come and sit down by me a little while. I am sure the fish will be glad of a respite. Isn't it a little sunny to-day for first-class fishing?" Hilda pointed to the chair near hers, and the Captain came up to her with shy alacrity. "Even first-class fishing is a bore, _I_ think," he observed, not taking the chair, but laying his rod upon it, and looking at his daughter and then at the river. "Feeling better to-day, aren't you? You might take a stroll with me, perhaps; but no, you're not strong enough for that, are you? Fine day, isn't it?" Now that the moment looked forward to, yet dreaded, might be coming, the Captain vaguely tried to avert it after the procrastinating manner of weak people. Hilda did not seem to have anything particular to say, and the absent-minded smile on her face reassured him as to immediate issues. "How are _you_ feeling?" she asked; "I have been looking at the trees and grass for so long that I had almost forgotten that there are human beings in the world." "Oh, I'm very well; very well indeed." The Captain was again feeling uncomfortable. An inner coercion seemed to be forcing him to speak just because speaking was not really imperative at the moment. A little glow of self-approbation suddenly prompted him to add: "You know, I know about it now. That is to say, I wasn't exactly to speak of it, if it might pain you; but I don't see why it should do _that_. Upon my word," said the Captain, feeling warmly self-righteous now that the ice was broken, "it's more likely to pain me, isn't it? Rather to my discredit, you know; though, intrinsically, I was as innocent as a babe unborn. Of course you helped me over a tight place now and then, but I thought the money came to you with a mere turn of the hand, so to speak; and, as for your teaching--wearing yourself out--well, I don't know which I was angrier with first, you or myself. I never dreamed of it, it never entered into my head. And then, _my_ daughter and low French cads! Well, _he_ saw to that, and so did I. I saw the fellow too; thought it best, you know; for, naturally, Odd couldn't have my weight and authority. I was simply stupefied, you know. It quite knocked me over when he told me. Odd told me--"