"I will go to father myself, to-night. I will plead with him until he
must yield," Susie said, as cautiously closing, the door of the
nursery she entered her own room.
The evening was oppressive, and Susie's black dress became very
uncomfortable. Flitting about, guided by the moonbeams, she sought for
something of lighter texture. The mourning robe was laid aside, and a
dress, white and fleecy, wrapped her slender form. The clustering
ringlets were smoothed back, and rolled in a heavy coil high on the
back of her head.
"Now I will go down. Father will be alone at this hour, and--" She
paused, raised her sweet eyes upward, and clasping her hands she
murmured, "Mother in heaven, plead for me."
Noiselessly she opened the door and glanced into the room. Her father
sat with his back toward her, leaning on a table over which were
scattered books and papers. In his hand he held the picture of her
mother. She drew back a little, still, however, standing within the
door. She dared not interrupt the sacred privacy of the hour. The
rustle of her garments, light as it was, must have caught his ear, for
his bowed head was raised.
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