Hiram was convinced, and the want of an object on which to wreak his anger now served to exhaust it.
He leaned his face upon the side of his daughter's couch, and groaned.
Harriet put her hand gently upon his cheek. 'Papa,' she said, timidly, 'may I tell you what to do?'
Hiram raised his head. His face was very haggard, but he made no reply.
'Send for Belle to come back, and her husband too, and let us make them happy,' said Harriet, almost abruptly.
'Never! My curse is on her! She is no longer my child—I disinherit her!'
'Give her my portion, then—I shall not require it.'
Hiram started—a new idea had struck him. It was as if somehow he had received a new accession of wealth by the surrender of Harriet's share. A strange confusion of ideas, certainly; but the thought grew on him, as we shall see by-and-by. Now, however, it gave place to the dominant feeling.
Harriet, encouraged by his silence, broke in again: 'Won't you, papa?' she whispered.
Hiram turned and looked at her angrily, but was compelled to lower his countenance before his daughter's earnest, truthful, heavenly gaze.