"Daisy, I must go in alone to see papa's portrait first," she said, and tears came into the lovely eyes as she crossed the threshold.
Again she knelt before the portrait, weeping for the loved and lost, but suddenly Uncle Ben came in and stood by her side.
"He wronged you, my darling, and left you to fight the bitter battle of poverty alone. How can you forgive him?"
She put her hand in his, and answered, sweetly:
"My step-mother was to blame, I'm sure, Uncle Ben, and so I have never harbored one unkind thought of my dear, dead father; and, oh, what would I not give if he were alive to-night to bless Ralph and me in our happiness!"
"My angel daughter!" cried the old man, and he flung aside the disfiguring disguises in which he had masqueraded while unmasking his wicked wife. There he stood, tall, dark and handsome, although with a sadness that would never leave his face—Vincent Carew, her beloved father!
She flew to his arms, and they had a blessed half hour of sacred rejoicing and love. Then there came a light rap on the door.
It was Ralph Chainey, handsome as a prince in his evening suit.
"They told me to come here for you, my darling! Oh, how beautiful you are!" he cried, taking her into his arms.
Vincent Carew came forward into the light.