his temper. "Of course it
is for your sake, don't you believe me when I say so? Please remember
that I am your father, and it is your duty to believe me whether my
statement convinces you or not. It is your duty to believe me and to
love me!"

"God knows I try hard enough," broke from the girl, and now she too
lost control of herself. "I hate myself for saying it, but it's true,
father, it's true! I don't seem to love you, not as most girls love
their fathers, and I want to, I do so want to! You believe that, don't
you, father?"

Mr. Stanton was silent, and Helene went on: "I always feel that there
is something between us. I think of myself only as one of your
possessions. You were so good, so gentle to mother; why aren't you
more kind, more loving to me?"

"Is there anything you want that you do not get?" demanded Mr. Stanton.

"Yes," cried Helene, "there is love, love! I do not get it! Your
manner is cold, hard, repellent!"

"How dare you!" shouted her father.

"I repeat it!" cried Helene, now utterly regardless of consequences.
"Something in you repels me. I came to you this morning with the news
of my engagement of marriage. I came to you with earnest longing to
have you take me into your arms and kiss me, to have you congratulate
me on my happiness. Instead of this you repelled me with cold
calculations as to the effect the marriage would have on your own
social position. Oh, father, father! is that the way to sympathise
with a girl? I have no mother; you should supply her place. All the
luxuries in this palace don't make up to me for the lack of love I find
in it."

"Is it my fault that your mother died when you were eight years old?"
said Mr. Stanton in a milder tone. The reference to his dead wife had
had a softening influence upon him.

"No, no, father; no, no! I can't help thinking of her now, that's all!
I need her now, so much. I have no one to go to but you, and--" the
girl shook her head helplessly. "I can just remember her, so delicate,
so beautiful! She was an angel, wasn't she?"

He nodded assent. "I remember that she was always in tears, always
afraid to go out in the streets, afraid to be seen," said Helene
somewhat irrelevantly. "You did love her, didn't you? I always feel
you did! Why, why can't you love me as you did her? Why am I not as
near to you as she was? Your own flesh and blood should be very near
and very dear to you; especially at such a time as thi