that something has gone wrong, and he was very inquisitive—I may say he questioned me in a relentless kind of way.”
“Oh, papa, it was my doing, I’m afraid. I said something long ago about possible disgrace.”
He pushed her away; he stood up, and looked at her with the eyes dilated, half in fear, half in fierceness, of an animal at bay; he did not heed that his abrupt movement had almost thrown her prostrate on the ground.
“You, Ellinor! You—you”
“Oh, darling father, listen!” said she, creeping to his knees, and clasping them with her hands. “I said it, as if it were a possible case, of some one else—last August—but he immediately applied it, and asked me if it was over me the disgrace, or shame—I forget the words we used—hung; and what could I say?”
“Anything—anything to put him off the scent. God help me, I am a lost man, betrayed by my child!”
Ellinor let go his knees, and covered her face. Every one stabbed at that poor heart. In a minute or so her father spoke again.
“I don’t mean what I say. I often don’t mean it now. Ellinor, you must forgive me, my child!” He stooped, and lifted her up, and sat down, taking
