ying itself in a way as unexpected to him as to his
daughter. "It is not my fault, I swear, that I have lived without a
wife, without--well, well! it is not you to whom I ought to say this. We
will not refer to it again. About this letter writing--I might say, as
perhaps I did say at the time the arrangement was made, that surely I
had a right to claim you entirely for one year at least; but I don't--I
won't. If I did ever say so, Lesley, I regret the words exceedingly.
Ever since you came to me, I have had no idea but that you were writing
to her regularly and freely; and I never--never in my right mind--wished
it otherwise."

"But mamma talked of an agreement----"

"That was years ago. I must have said something in my heat which the
lawyers--the people who arranged things--interpreted wrongly. And your
mother, as you say, did not care to ask me for anything. I can only say,
Lesley, that I am sorry the mistake arose."

His voice was grave and cold again, almost indifferent. He stood with
his elbow on the mantelpiece, his hand supporting his head, his eyes
averted from the girl. A close eye might have observed that the veins of
his forehead were swollen, and the pulse at his temple was beating
furiously: otherwise he had mastered all signs of agitation. Lesley
hesitated a moment: then came up to him, and put her slim fingers into
his hand.

"Father," she said, softly, "if we _have_ misjudged you--mamma and
I--won't you forgive us?"

For answer he took her face between his two hands, bent down and kissed
it tenderly.

"You don't remember sitting on my knee when you were a tiny little
thing, do you?" he asked her. "You would not go to sleep at nights
without a kiss from me before I went out. You were rather fond of me
then, child! I wish things had turned out differently!"

He spoke sadly, and Lesley returned his kiss with a new feeling of
affection of which she had not been conscious before, but which she
would have found it difficult to translate into words. Before she could
manage to reply, the handle of the door was turned, and father and
daughter stood apart as quickly as if they had had no right to stand
with arms enlaced and faces almost touching: indeed, the situation was
so new to both of them that they felt something like shame and alarm as
they turned to meet the expected Doctor Sophy.

But it was not Doctor Sophy. It was Sarah with the tea-tray, very
resentful at not having had it rung for earlier--s