"Yes, Dad?"
"How old are you now?"
"Eighteen."
"Ay, so you are!" And he looked at her searchingly. "Quite a woman!
Time flies! You're old enough to learn—"
"I have always tried to learn," she said—"and I like studying things out of books—"
"Ay! But there are worse things in life than ever were written in books," he answered, wearily—"things that people hide away and are ashamed to speak of! Ay, poor wilding! Things that I've tried to keep from you as long as possible—but—time presses, and, I shall have to speak—"
She looked at him earnestly. Her face paled and her eyes grew dark and wondering.
"Have I done anything wrong?" she asked.
"You? No! Not you! You are not to blame, child! But you've heard the law set out in church on Sundays that 'The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children even unto the third and fourth generation.' You've heard that?"
"Yes, Dad!"