"For mercy's sake, Charles, talk not thus in my father's presence! Adieu, dear father, adieu."
After a momentary silence, Pierre Raimond approached his daughter, and, gazing steadfastly on her, said, in a deep solemn voice,—
"Bertha, do you merit this charge?"
"No, father," answered Bertha, with all the dignified simplicity of truth.
"I believe you, my child. And now, sir, listen to me, for four years have I been deceived by the belief that my daughter was happy. I now know the truth, Bertha has no other support than myself, a poor, old and infirm man; but still there is strength enough left me to bid you beware."
"Oh, then to advice and lectures succeed threats and menaces? What next, sir?"
"At least, henceforward, we plainly understand our relative situations; and, first, from this hour I reject the pecuniary aid I accepted at your hands, solely at the solicitations of my daughter."
"You find it more convenient to be ungrateful?"
"Ungrateful! for having sacrificed my own notions to spare your pride?"
"Father, I conjure you——"