uire a proof of my innocence."

This bold opposition of Elise only excited Gotzkowsky's anger the
more, and was to him a fresh proof of her guilt. His rage overpowered
him; with raised arm and flashing eye he strode up to Elise, and cried
out: "Away from the door, or by Heaven I will forget that I am your
father!"

"Oh," cried she breathlessly, "you have often forgotten that, but
think now; remember that I am the daughter of the wife whom you loved!
Trust me, father. By the memory of my mother, I swear to you that
my honor is pure from any spot; and, however much appearances may be
against me, I am nevertheless innocent. I have never done any thing of
which my father would have to be ashamed. Believe me, father; give me
your hand and say to me--'I believe your innocence; I trust you even
without proof!'"

She sank down on her knees, raising her arms imploringly to him, while
burning tears streamed down her cheeks. Gotzkowsky gazed at her long
and silently, and his child's tears touched the father's heart.

"Perhaps I do her injustice," said he to himself, looking thoughtfully
into her weeping face. "She may be really innocent. Let us try," said
he, after a pause, pressing his hands to his burning temples. As he
let them drop, his countenance was again calm and clear, and there was
no longer visible any trace of his former anger. "I will believe you,"
said he. "Here, Elise, is my hand."

Elise uttered a cry of joy, sprang up from her knees, rushed toward
her father, and pressed her burning lips on his extended hand. "My
father, I thank you. I will ever be grateful to you," cried she,
fondly.

Gotzkowsky held her hand firmly in his own, and while speaking to her
approached, apparently by accident, the door so bravely defended by
Elise. "You are right, my child; I was a fool to doubt you, but I am
jealous of my honor, the most precious property of an honest man. Much
can be bought with gold, but not honor. True honor is bright and clear
as a mirror, and the slightest breath dims it. Oh, how would this
envious, grudging, malignant world rejoice if it could only find a
spot on my honor! But woe to him who dims it, even if it were my own
child!"

Elise turned pale and cast down her eyes. Gotzkowsky perceived it. He
still held her hand in his, and approached the door with her, but he
compelled his voice to be gentle and mild.

"I repeat," said he, "I wronged you, but it was a terrible suspicion
which tortured me, an