“You loved each other so devotedly; you married publicly with the blessings of all your friends; you came hither to your beautiful home, and in one month, in the very perfection of your happiness, your union was shattered as by a thunderbolt from Heaven. You parted; oh, my father, was that well?”
“It was well!” he answered, solemnly.
She looked into the stern sorrow of his face, and read there that, in the simple words of his reply, he had uttered some awful truth. Again her heart yearned towards her father with inextinguishable love. She extended her arms and advanced towards him with imploring looks. But he waved her off, saying, in pitying tones:
“Come, no nearer, unhappy girl! Between you and me there is a great gulf fixed. Hark! Some one approaches! I must leave you now! Good-night—nay, stop one moment! I must see you again at this hour to-morrow. In the meantime, drop no hint of my presence in England.”
“None; I will keep your secret, my father,” replied Alma, as Hollis Elverton, waving adieu, disappeared in the coverts of the woods.
CHAPTER XVIII.
FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
“Now father and child have met at last,
Met—as they never had met before;
Between them the spectre of the past
Stands—a barrier for evermore.”