never
found; but I have mourned her--I have yearned for her all my life."

"And do you imagine, even if you should meet her some time in the
future, that she would reciprocate this affection which, strangely
enough, you manifest at this late day?"

"Perhaps not, if you should meet her first and tell her your story,"
the man returned, with a heavy sigh.

"Which I shall assuredly do," said Mrs. Stewart, resolutely; "that is,
if, as I said before, I find her alone in the world; that much
justification is my due--my child shall know the truth; then she shall
be allowed to act according to the dictates of her own heart and
judgment, regarding her future relationship toward both of us. I feel
sure that she has been most carefully reared--that my old friend Edith
would instill only precepts of truth and purity in her mind, and my
heart tells me that she would be likely to shrink from one who had
wronged her mother as you have wronged me."

"I see; you will keep her from me if you can," said Mr. Goddard, with
intense bitterness.

"I am free to confess that I should prefer you never to meet," said
Mrs. Stewart, a look of pain sweeping over her beautiful face; "but
Edith is twenty years of age, if she is living; and if, after learning
my history, she desires to recognize the relationship between herself
and you, I can, of course, but submit to her wish."

"It is very evident to me that you will teach her to hate her father,"
was the sullen retort.

"Her father?" the term was repeated with infinite scorn. "Pray in what
respect have you shown yourself worthy to be so regarded?--you who
even denied her legitimate birth, and turned your back upon her,
totally indifferent to whether she starved or not."

"How hard you are upon me, Isabel!"

"I have told you only facts."

"I know--I know; but have some pity for me now, since, at last, I have
come to my senses; for in my heart I have an insatiable longing for
this daughter who, if she is living, must embody some of the virtues
of her mother, who--God help me!--is lost, lost to me forever!"

The man's voice died away in a hoarse whisper, while a heart-broken
sob burst from his lips.

"Go, Gerald," said Mrs. Stewart, in a low, but not unkindly imperative
tone; "it is better that this interview should terminate. The past is
past--nothing can change it; but the future will be what we make it.
Go, and if I ever hear from you again, let me know that your present
contrition has