"If I could but tell you all!" interrupted Mildred, sobbing, "if I could but patiently have your hearing."
"Never a word of him! as you desire to preserve my affection, I will not hear. Get to your chamber," said Lindsay, almost sternly. "Get to your chamber, this perverse and resolute temper of thine, needs the restraint of solitude."
Mildred rose from her chair and moved towards the door, and as she was about to depart she turned her weeping countenance towards her father.
"Come hither," he said, "thou art a foolish girl, and would bring down wretchedness and woe upon thee. God forgive you, from the bottom of my heart, I forgive you. This thing is not of your own imagining: some malignant spirit has spread his baleful wing above our house. Go, child, forget what has been said, and believe that your father buffets thus harshly with fate for your own welfare. Kiss me, and may heaven shield you against this impending ill!"
"Dear father, hear me," said Mildred, as Lindsay imprinted a kiss upon her forehead.
"Away, away!" interrupted Lindsay, "I would be temperate nor again forget myself. In all love, Mildred, away."
Mildred left the room, and Lindsay, to restore the equanimity of his temper, which had been so much overthrown by this interview, wandered forth into the valley, whence it was some hours before he returned.
It was not long after the termination of this conference before Henry rode up to the door. The clatter of his horse's hoofs brought Mildred from her chamber into the parlor.
"What! sister, your eyes red with tears?" said Henry. "Who has distressed you?"
"Ah, brother, I have had a weary time in your absence. Our poor father is sadly displeased with me."