way than
her mind--and, all the time, her ears were alert for the slightest
sound.

She halted, wild-eyed and unsteady on her feet, her hand trembling at
her lips. A step in the passage below, ascending the stairs slowly and
heavily. Oh! did it come in mercy? She tried to draw a meaning from the
sound--then dared not trust her inference. The steps had gained the
landing now--were advancing along the entry toward her door. Did they
bear a load of sorrow only, or of hate and condemnation likewise?

They paused at her threshold--then there was a knock, thrice
repeated--not loud, nor rapid, nor regular, nor precise--rather as one
heart might knock for admittance to another. Cornelia tried to say "Come
in," or to open the door, but could neither speak nor move. Iron bands
seemed to be clasped around all her faculties of motion. Would he go
away and leave her?

The door opened, turning slowly and hesitatingly on its hinges, until it
disclosed her father's venerable figure. His limbs seemed weak; his
shoulders drooped; but Cornelia looked only at his face. His eyes were
deep and compassionate. He held out his arms, which shook slightly but
continually: "Come, my daughter," said he.

She was his daughter still! She cried out, and, walking hurriedly to
him, laid herself close against him, and he hugged her closer yet--poor,
miserable, erring creature though she was.

So the three were reunited--and not superficially, but more intimately
and indissolubly than ever before. They would not be apart, but remained
together in Bressant's room--Sophie on the bed, with an expression of
divine contentment on her face, Cornelia and the professor sitting near.

"Papa," said Sophie, as the afternoon came on, "I want to make my will."

Cornelia caught her breath sharply, and, turning away her face, covered
her eyes with her hand. Professor Valeyon's gray eyebrows gathered for a
moment--then he steadied himself, and said, "Well, my dear."

It was not a very intricate matter. The various little bequests were
soon made and noted down as she requested. After all was disposed of,
there was a little pause.

"Neelie, dear," then said Sophie, turning her eyes full upon her, "I
bequeath my love to you."

Cornelia perceived the hidden significance in the words, and blushed so
deep and warm that the tears were dried upon her cheeks. Sophie went on,
before she could make any reply:

"And I have something left for you, too, papa, though I kno