To behold any convulsion of nature is no light experience, and when it is a storm of the spirit in one beloved the beholder is swept along with it in greater or less measure.

Ellen trembled as she walked.
Her father kept looking at her anxiously and remorsefully.

Once he reached around his other hand and chucked her playfully under the chin.

"Scared most to death, was she ?" he asked, with a shamefaced blush.
"I know something is the matter, and I think it would be better for you to tell me, father," replied Ellen, soberly.
"There's nothing to tell, child," said Andrew.

"Don't you worry your little head about it." Between his anxiety lest the girl should be troubled, and his intense humiliation that she should have discovered him in such an abandon of grief which was almost like a disclosure of the nakedness of his spirit, he was completely unnerved.