ther, I feel, yet why, I know not, I feel that you
know all!'

'I know much, my Henrietta, but I do not know all.'

'And if you knew all, you would not hate me?'

'Hate you, my Henrietta! These are strange words to use to a father; to
a father, I would add, like me. No one can love you, Henrietta, as your
father loves you; yet speak to me not merely as a father; speak to me as
your earliest, your best, your fondest, your most faithful friend.'

She pressed his hand, but answer, that she could not.

'Henrietta, dearest, dearest Henrietta, answer me one question.'

'I tremble, sir.'

'Then we will speak to-morrow.'

'Oh! no, to-night. To-morrow may never come. There is no night for me;
I cannot sleep. I should go mad if it were not for you. I will speak; I
will answer any questions. My conscience is quite clear except to you;
no one, no power on earth or heaven, can reproach me, except my father.'

'He never will. But, dearest, tell me; summon up your courage to meet my
question. Are you engaged to this person?'

'I was.'

'Positively engaged?'

'Long ere this I had supposed we should have claimed your sanction. He
left me only to speak to his father.'

'This may be the idle tattle of women?'

'No, no,' said Henrietta, in a voice of deep melancholy; 'my fears had
foreseen this dark reality. This week has been a week of terror to me;
and yet I hoped, and hoped, and hoped. Oh! what a fool have I been.'

'I know this person was your constant companion in my absence; that you
have corresponded with him. Has he written very recently?'

'Within two days.'

'And his letters?'

'Have been of late most vague. Oh! my father, indeed, indeed I have
not conducted myself so ill as you perhaps imagine. I shrunk from
this secret engagement; I opposed by every argument in my power, this
clandestine correspondence; but it was only for a week, a single week;
and reasons, plausible and specious reasons, were plentiful. Alas! alas!
all is explained now. All that was strange, mysterious, perplexed in his
views and conduct, and which, when it crossed my mind, I dismissed with
contempt,--all is now too clear.'

'Henrietta, he is unworthy of you.'

'Hush! hush! dear father. An hour ago I loved him. Spare him, if you
only wish to spare me.'

'Cling to my heart, my child. A father's love has comfort. Is it not
so?'

'I feel it is; I feel calmer since you came and we have spoken. I never
can be happy again; my spirit is