"Not put away, dear father—not loved any less, but rather more than ever. Oh, father, I know you will not condemn a happiness which you once knew so sweet. Do you know I am eighteen to-day? I have been reading my mother's letter; here it is—read it, too, will you not?"
She thrust it into his trembling hand; she dared not look at him, but went and sat at the window while he read.
The silence was long and oppressive; at length she ventured to turn to her father, and saw him sitting motionless, with bowed head, great tears rolling silently down his face and dropping upon the paper clutched in his hand. She stole to his feet, knelt, and clasped her hands over his knee, looking up at him with a glance full of sympathy and confidence—she trusted to the power of the mother up in heaven who had said that she should watch over her at this crisis.
"She knew me better than I knew myself," muttered the proud man; "I do not wonder that she wanted to hide you away from my selfishness, Annie."
"Yet she loved you so, through it all," murmured the young girl.
"She did. The letter is like herself—her goodness is more than I can bear. But it is not too late for me to prove myself worthy of that love yet. No, my child, I will not wring the life out of your warm young heart with this steely will of mine. Where is this lover of yours? Send for him. Be he bear or buffalo, wild Indian or adventurer, he shall be my son. You shall share with him all that I have to give."
"He is neither bear nor buffalo," cried Elizabeth, smiling through her tears. "If you will only take a good look at him, papa, you will see what he is—you will not be ashamed of him."
"Pshaw!" muttered Dr. Carollyn, rising, and shaking himself. "But where did you say he could be sent for, little one?"
"At the Metropolitan, I am quite sure he said."