duty is greater even than veneration. I must--I
_will_--know the secret of your grief!"

"Thou deprived of thy father's love?" exclaimed De Vlierbeck,
reproachfully and with surprise;--love for thee, my adored child, is
precisely the secret of my grief. For ten years I have drained the
bitter cup and prayed the Almighty to make you happy; but, alas! my
prayers have always been unheard!"

"Shall I be unhappy, then?" asked Lenora, without betraying the least
emotion.

"Unhappy, because of the misery that awaits us," replied her father.
"The blow that is about to fall on our house destroys all that we
possess. We must leave Grinselhof."

The last words, which plainly confirmed her fears, seemed for a moment
to appall the girl; but she repressed her feelings, and answered him,
with increased courage,--

"You are not dying this slow death because ill-fortune has overtaken
_you_, my father; I know the unconquerable force of your character too
well for that. No! your heart is weak and yielding because _I_ have to
partake your poverty! Bless you, bless you, for your affection! But,
tell me, father, if I were offered all the wealth of the world on
condition that I would consent to see you suffer for a single day, what
think you I would answer?"

Dumb with surprise, the poor man looked proudly at his daughter, and a
gentle pressure of her hand was his sole reply.

"Ah!" continued she, "I would refuse all the treasures of earth and meet
poverty without a sigh. And you, father,--if they offered you all the
gold of America for your Lenora, what would you do?"

"How can you ask, child?" exclaimed her father; "do we sell our hearts'
blood for gold?"

"And so," continued the girl, "our Maker has left us that which is
dearest to us both in this world; why then should we mourn when we ought
to be grateful for his compassionate care? Take heart once more, dear
father; no matter what may be our future lot,--should we even be forced
to take refuge in a hovel,--nothing can harm us as long as we are not
separated!"

Smiles, astonishment, admiration, and love, by turns flitted over the
wan features of the poor old man, who seemed altogether unnerved and
disconcerted by the painful _denouement_. At length, after some moments
of unbroken silence, he clasped his hands, and, gazing intensely into
her eyes through his starting tears--

"Lenora, Lenora! my child!" he exclaimed, "thou art not of earth--thou
art an angel! The unselfish