"If he should seek you and find you and seize upon you as his, absorb you fatally into himself, as he has me, I will pray to the Heavenly Father," etc.; and as she brooded over it, her tears ceased to fall, a light came into her face, and she whispered, looking up:
"My dear mother is praying for me now; she is watching over me, softening my father's pride, blessing our love—yes! she approves my love for Nat—she will plead our cause. I will not go proudly away from my father, as I intended, when he so insulted my lover last night. I will take him my mother's letter, and that shall be our peacemaker."
With the letter in her hand she went to her father's door; but her knock remained unanswered. She had not heard him leave the house, and stood irresolute, half-minded to intrude, without being bidden, into his presence. While she hesitated, the door of the room adjoining was partially unclosed. She looked up in surprise, for it was the chamber forever closed, into which she had not been permitted to look since she entered the house—the chamber where only the master went, alone, at night, to surround himself with ghosts of the past—her mother's bridal-chamber.
"Come in here, Annie!"
She hardly knew her father's voice, oppressed with emotions which his pride endeavored to subdue; but she caught a glimpse of his face, troubled, and wet with tears, and she sprung forward, forgetful in an instant of her own wishes, flinging her arms about his neck. Softly he closed the door, and the two were in the apartment, haunted by the long-vanished presence of one, the young, the beautiful, the happy—the dead wife and mother—the tragic close of whose brief dream of bliss had overshadowed the luxury and beauty of this spot with a darkness which could be lifted in this world—"nevermore!"
Timidly Elizabeth looked around, moved by a curiosity that was all reverence and love. The blinds of one window were flung open and the sunshine burst through, melting into the amber drapery of the heavy silk curtains like topazes into gold. Save that the furniture was kept scrupulously free from dust, proving the frequency of her father's visits, scarcely an article seemed to have been moved from its place in all those years. Curtains of amber silk corresponding with those of the windows draped the bed, faded by time, but otherwise unchanged. The party-dress which the bride had worn that fatal evening, lay across the pillows where she had thrown it when she exchanged it for the traveling suit in which she made her escape. The little satin slippers of the same color as the dress, stood side by side on the carpet near by. The sight of these touched the young girl beyond all else; she sprung to them, took them up, kissed and pressed them to her bosom, all unreflecting of the pang the impulsive action inflicted on another, until a sound like that of a strangled sob, caused her to replace them, and return to Dr. Carollyn, who had sunk into the chair nearest him—her favorite chair, a dainty, cushioned thing of amber satin brocade, well fitted for a lady's chamber.
"Dear father," she said, holding his hand, and looking into his eyes with a love which ought to have satisfied him.
"Yet you wish to throw me away—you love another better than me," were the words he said.
He had not meant to say them; he had come into that room for the purpose of obtaining complete mastery over the tyrannous part of himself, and he thought had conquered it forever; and he had no more than said them, before he was ashamed, adding quickly:
"I do not blame you for it, little one. I shall not oppose you—only I have had you such a brief time to myself. Is it strange I was disconcerted to find myself put away so soon?"