tent during the interval. She wanted
him to call her his dear daughter--to hold her hand--to pat her
check--to kiss her forehead with his rough, bristly lips--to tell her,
in his gruff, kind voice, that she was a solace and a resource to him.
The thousand various little ways in which he had testified his
deep-lying affection--she had not noticed them or thought much of them,
so long as she felt secure of always commanding them--with what
different eyes she looked back upon them now. Oh! if they might all be
lavished upon her during these last few remaining hours or minutes.
Should she not go and sit down at his knee, and ask him to pet her and
caress her?

No; she would not steal the love for which her soul thirsted, even
though he whom she robbed should not feel the loss. She had stripped him
of much that would doubtless seem to him of far more worth and
importance; but, when it came to taking, under false pretenses, a thing
so sacred as her father's love, Cornelia drew back, and, spite of her
great need, had the grace to make the sacrifice. Let it not be
underrated: a woman who sees honor, reputation, and happiness slipping
away from her, will struggle hardest of all for the little remaining
scrap of love, and only feel wholly forlorn after that, too, has
vanished away.

At length, about daybreak or a little after, Sophie spoke, low, but very
distinctly:

"I'm going to sleep; don't wake me or disturb me;" and almost
immediately sank into a profound slumber--so very profound, indeed, that
it rather bore likeness to a trance. Yet, her pulse still beat
regularly, though faintly, and at long intervals, and her breath went
and came, though with a motion almost imperceptible to the eye.

"Is it a good sign? Will she get well now?" asked Cornelia, as she and
her father stood looking down at her.

"She'll never get well, my dear," said Professor Valeyon, very quietly.
"Her mind and body both have had too great a shock--far too great. More
has happened than we know of yet, I suspect. But we shall hear, we shall
hear. Yes, sleep is good for her: it'll make her comfortable. Her nerves
will be the quieter."

"O papa! papa! is our little Sophie going to die?" faltered Cornelia;
and then she broke down completely. She had not fully grasped the idea
until that moment; but the very tone in which her father spoke had the
declaration of death in it. It was not his usual deep, gruff, forcible
voice, shutting off abruptly at the