"I--I--mean--were you going to burn--your book?" I remembered in time that he did not know we called it the Fetich. "Oh, papa," I pleaded, "_why_ are you doing this? Your wonderful book, that mamma was so proud of!"
Papa got up and sat in his chair, and the sadness of his face made me think of Fee's that awful night; the tears came rushing to my eyes, and I knelt down and took his hand in my two and held it fast. He let me keep it, and peered earnestly at me for a few minutes in his near-sighted way. "It might as well be destroyed; I shall never finish it--_now_" he said presently, in a low voice, as if he were speaking to himself, and looking beyond me at the Fetich in the grate. "She is no longer here to praise and encourage--my lifelong work,--a failure!"
Then, all at once, a daring idea came to me; and, without giving my courage time to cool, I said quickly: "Papa! dear, dear papa,"--how my voice shook!--"_please_ let me help you with your work of an afternoon, something as mamma used to do!" I thought I saw a refusal in his face, and went on hastily: "I know quite a good deal of Latin and Greek, and I write a plain hand; I could copy for you, anyway, and I would be _very_ careful. Will you? Ah, _please_! I know she would like me to do it. And perhaps"--the words faltered--"perhaps she can see and hear us now; and if she can, I _know_ she will be glad to have me do this for you."
Papa gave an eager, startled glance around the room; then he drooped his head, and covered his face with the hand I wasn't holding, and for several minutes we didn't speak. Presently he said slowly,--and the unsteadiness of his voice told me more than his words did,--"I suppose I could let you try; for I do need--some one. You might be useful to me, my dear, if you could come regularly to help me--every day; on that condition I will accept your offer, and thank you for it--"
"I can--I will; _indeed_ I will!" I broke in.
A look of relief came over papa's face, a faint little smile stirred his lips, and he gently patted my shoulder. "You are like your mother," he said; and turning up my chin he kissed me,--a light little kiss that just brushed my face, but I knew what it meant from him.
Then, as he stooped over and began to gather up the Fetich, he added, in his usual voice: "These are some chapters that I've written lately, and become somewhat discouraged over. Help me put them back in their place on my desk, Nannie; and be careful to keep every page in its regular order." I did so, and listened attentively while he explained, with great care and insistence, what I should have to do, and how much time he would require me to spend in the study.