Her burning yet sunken eyes ran over the group.
Eugene sprang up and left the room; Antoinette put her embroidered handkerchief to dry eyes; Mrs. Graham looked distressed; and her husband wiped his spectacles. But the mist was in his eyes, and presently large drops fell over his cheeks as he looked at the face and form of his only child.
Cornelia saw his emotion; the great floodgate of her heart seemed suddenly lifted. She passed her white fingers over his gray hair, and murmured brokenly:
"My father—my father! I have been a care and a sorrow to you all my life; I am very wayward and exacting, but bear with your poor child; my days are numbered. Father, when my proud head lies low in the silent grave, then give others my place."
He took her in his arms and kissed her hollow cheek, saying tenderly:
"My darling, you break my heart. Have you ever been denied a wish?
What is there that I can do to make you happy?"
"Give Eugene a house of his own, and let me be at peace in my home.
Will you do this for me?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, my father."
Disengaging his clasping arm, she left them.