She was absorbed in
thought, and did not hear him coming till he stood before her; till he
laid his grey head on her shoulder and murmured: "My little girl."
Then her heart melted also. She took the dear old head between her
hands, with its rough hair, and answered:
"My dear father."
Neither needed to ask or to explain why he was there. After a long
silence, when he was calmer, he looked at her and said:
"It seems as if I had waked up from a frightful dream." ... But she
merely stroked his hair, without speaking.
"You were watching over me, were you not?... I saw it.... Were you
unhappy?" ...
She just bowed her head not daring to look at him. He stooped to kiss
her hands, and raising his head he whispered:
"My good angel. You have saved me!"
When he had gone back to his room she stayed there without moving,
filled with emotion, which kept her for long, still, with drooping
head, her hands clasped on her knees. The waves of feeling that flowed
through her almost took away her breath. Her heart was bursting with
love, happiness, and shame. The humility of her father overcame
her.... And all at once a passionate impulse of tender, filial piety
broke the bonds which paralysed her soul and body, as she stretched
out her arms towards the absent, and threw herself at the foot of her
bed, thanking God, beseeching Him to give all the suffering to her,
and happiness to the one she loved.
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