CHAPTER III.
WOMAN'S LOVE.
Blanche was trimming a baby cap, when her father entered the room. With a cry of delight she sprang up, and rushed into his arms. He hugged her fondly, and the tears rolled down his cheeks as he pressed his child sadly to his bosom.
It was some time before either of them spoke.
"My poor child!" he said at last.
"Your happy child, papa; I am so happy! I knew you would forgive me soon. Oh! why is not Cecil here to join with me in gratitude?"
"Blanche," he said with an effort, "I am come to take you away with me: will you come?"
She looked her answer.
"That is right, ... that is right .... Pack up your things, then, at once."
"Pack up what things?" she asked in astonishment.
"Whatever you want to take with you .... Come .... don't stay in this house a moment longer than you can help."