The professor leaned back in his chair, and sighed again heavily.

It was true that he was growing old, and now that he contemplated action, he felt that in the last nine years the inertia of age had gained upon him.

Besides, he greatly loved his daughters, and though it is easy to say that the greatest love is the greatest unselfishness, yet do we find a weakness in our hearts which we cannot believe wholly wrong, strongly prompting us to yearn and cling--even unwisely--to those who have our best affection.

"And what seems wise to-day may be proved folly to-morrow," is our argument, "so let us cling to the good we have." And Professor Valeyon well knew that what time his daughters departed to visit the outer world was likely to be the beginning of a longer journey than to Boston or New York.

They were attractive, and, it was to be supposed, liable to be attracted; he would not be so weak as to imagine that their love for their father could long remain supreme.