'Dorothy cannot comprehend,' he went on, as Dorothy was called away, and he gave up the books he held to Master Caleb, and sat down in his arm-chair. 'She does not see any occasion for haste. But there is no time to spare; I am called upon to fill an important chair.' 'I was not surprised, though very proud to hear of the honour tendered to your acceptance, Professor,' said Master Caleb. 'Ah, well, it is gratifying; yes, doubtless. You were a true prophet about the book, it appears, Master Caleb, eh? But I do not dwell so much on that. It is poor Dolly's good that is actuating me now. I think of Dolly's future and of the time when I must leave her. I should like her to be comfortable then. I have laid by but little for her at present, and I shall be glad to be getting more.' 'If the exertion be not too much,' said Master Caleb, doubtfully. 'I do not fear it; my mind is made up.' He was looking tired already, and passed his hand once or twice across his forehead. 'It is only the hurry and trouble of this move that worries me, and the having to think myself of every single thing. Dorothy has no experience. But you must not keep me talking,' and he got up restlessly; 'I have no leisure for that. Where is Dolly?' She was coming back. 'Just look about for the list of the books, child. I had it but a moment ago; things get mislaid, and I have got to go over it.' 'Here it is; but father, you need not tire yourself with that, dear.' 'Dolly, leave me to manage my own concerns. You have no experience. You had better pack up your clothes, my dear. That is your business. Well here, if you want something to do, just go over the books on the lower shelves. I cannot stoop any longer.' There was no chance of farewell words from Mistress Dorothy that morning. * * * * * It was but a few days after this, Master Caleb sat at his high desk in school, the evening sun was creeping slowly across the benches towards him. Already it shone in two gold square patches on the white-washed wall. The hum of voices was growing a little louder as the moment of release drew near, when a man in a smock frock, with a long whip over his shoulder, looked in at the open door. Every head was raised to look at him and everybody knew him--the carrier from Morechester. 'It's just a message as I promised I'd give Master Caleb,' he began; 'old Mr. Bruce's young lady, in Minster yard, you know----' 'Yes, I know.' 'Ah! She sent her kind respects, and thought you'd like to know as how her father's dying. Yes, its some kind of a stroke or a fit,' the man went on, untying a knot in the lash of his whip, and answering the questions Mrs. Janet put to him from the window. Master Caleb had got to the door and stood leaning against it saying nothing. 'He was took last night, they told me, close upon nine o'clock.'