“He opened his arms, and I threw myself within them.
“He folded me to his bosom in sorrow too deep for words, yet I felt that I was forgiven as I sobbed on his shoulder.
“After a few minutes he lifted my head, kissed me, and led me to the sofa.
“When I had dropped upon the cushion he sat down beside me, put his arm protectingly around me, and then he spoke for the first time:
“‘It is I who need forgiveness—I who left my poor, motherless little girl for long years to the care of hirelings and eye servants, who betrayed their trust and left her an easy prey to villainy. Yes, it is I who need forgiveness. Elfrida, my child, can you forgive me?’
“‘Oh, father! father! do not speak so to me—to me who sinned against you so grievously—to me who ought to be on my knees at your feet!’ I said. And in the excess of remorse that his patient, forgiving words inspired, I would have kneeled to him, but that he stopped me and drew me again to his bosom.
“We spoke no more to each other for a few moments. At last he said, in a broken voice:
“‘Did you know—your poor stepmother—was dead, Elfrida?’
“‘I thought so, from your mourning dress, papa. I am very sorry for you,’ I replied.
“‘She passed away in the Canaries, five weeks since. I have the comfort of knowing that everything which human power could do was done for her. I devoted the last twelve years of my life solely to her, going with her wherever there was any hope for benefit. And for this cause I left my poor motherless child exposed to the beasts of prey that infest this world.’