"But tell me something about yourself now, Mollie. I do not need to ask if you are well; for your blooming appearance speaks for itself; but how is your father, and what have you been doing to amuse yourself during all these long months?"
Again that faint smile wreathed Mollie's lips, and there was a suspicion of irony in it, for his question was suggestive of the tenor of his own way of passing his time.
"'To amuse myself'," she repeated in a peculiar tone. "I really have had very little time to devote to amusement of any kind during the last year and a half. For the first few months I was busy keeping house for papa, for we were trying to be economical and kept no servant. Then he was taken ill."
"Yes, I remember you wrote me at one time that he was ill," Philip interposed, "but I supposed that he had recovered long ago."
"My father is a hopeless invalid--the physicians tell me that he will never be any better," said Mollie sadly.
"Can that be possible?" queried her companion, and trying to throw a proper amount of sympathy into his tone, but secretly wondering how they managed to keep the wolf from the door.
"Of course, when his health gave out he lost his situation, and his income stopped," Mollie gravely resumed, "and I was obliged to seek some employment. I have a position as private secretary to Monsieur Lamonti, a French gentleman of some prominence here in Washington--possibly you may have heard of him."
"Ah! yes, I have," said Philip with elevated eyebrows, for the wealthy Frenchman had been pointed out to him, and now he understood how Mollie had happened to be riding in that elegant turnout that morning. Then he added: "I am sorry to learn that Mr. Heatherford's case is so serious."
"Yes; papa has failed sadly; he seldom recognizes even me, now, while his hands have become so useless that he has to be fed like a child," Mollie returned with starting tears.
"That must make it very hard for you, dear," Philip responded with a tender inflection; "you must find it very irksome, reared as you have been, to confine yourself to a position and the care of an invalid."
"I do not," she returned brightly, though she straightened herself a trifle and flushed at his term of endearment. "I thoroughly enjoy my position, and if papa could only be well once more, I should feel perfectly happy with my work and the consciousness that I am really of some practical use in the world."