ctantly obeyed my
mother's requirement that I should come here. I could not summon my
brother, because I have no idea where a letter would reach him; and
with no friend--but the God of the friendless--I am before you. There
is one thing I ought to tell you; I have terrible forebodings of the
result of the operation, from which the Doctor encourages her to hope
so much. She will not be able to take anesthetics, at least not
chloroform, because she has a weak heart, and--"

"Yes--a very weak heart! It was never strong enough to hold her to her
duty."

"If you could see her now, I think even your vindictive hatred would be
sufficiently gratified. So wasted, so broken!--and with such a
ceaseless craving for a kind word from you. One night last week pain
made her restless, and I heard her sob. When I tried to relieve the
suffering, she cried bitterly: 'It is not my poor body alone--it is the
gnawing hunger to see father once more. He loved me so fondly once and
if I could crawl to his feet, and clasp his knees in my arms, I could
at least die in peace. I am starving for just one sight of him--one
touch.' My poor darling mother! My beautiful, bruised, broken flower."

Through the glittering mist of unshed tears, her eyes shone, like
silver lamps; and for a moment Gen'l Darrington covered his face with
one hand.

"If you could realize how bitterly galling to my own pride and self
respect is this appeal to a man who hates and spurns all whom I love, I
think, sir, that even you would pity me so heartily, that your hardened
heart would melt into one last farewell message of forgiveness to your
unfortunate daughter. I would rather carry her one word of love than
all your fortune."

"No--I come of a flinty race. We never forgive insults; never condone
wrongs; and expecting loyalty in our own blood, we cannot live long
enough to pardon its treachery. Once, I made an idol of my beautiful,
graceful, high-bred girl; but she stabbed my pride, dragged my name
through the gutters, broke her doting mother's heart; and now, I tell
you, she is as dead to me as if she had lain twenty-three years in her
grave. I have only one message. Tell her she is reaping the tares her
own hand sowed. I know her no more as child of mine, and my son fills
her place so completely, I do not even miss her. That is the best I can
say. No doubt I am hard, but at least I am honest; and I will not feign
what I cannot feel."

He limped across the floor, to a