"I cannot!" she gasped, bowing her head upon her hands. "Oh, dad, if you asked me for the heart out of my body it would be easier for me to give you!"
With a cry that resembled that of a wild animal, Godfrey Cuyler seized the girl by the shoulder.
"Answer me, quickly!" he cried, in a choking voice—"you do not love Lynde Pyne?"
She lifted her white face and looked at him. It was enough!
The old man fell upon his knees beside her and buried his face in her lap.
"My darling—my darling!" he moaned; "how can I ever ask you to forgive me?"
[CHAPTER II.]
A gentle breeze, like the soft current wafted from a fan in the hands of Heaven, played through the room in which Leonie lay sweetly sleeping.
Silently the door of her room opened, and with noiseless step the old man entered. He looked cautiously around, then thrust forward a candle that he had held outside the door until he found that she was soundly sleeping. With cat-like tread, he advanced and stood beside her, looking down with a countenance that was convulsed with anguish.