hat choked her, and wrote bravely on:

"You know the sorrow which has blighted my life; and I feel that I
could go joyfully to my beloved, my deeply mourned wife, if I could
feel that I was leaving my child--her child and mine--happily
provided for. For this purpose I should like Guy, before he leaves
for India, to fulfill his promise, and, by marrying my daughter, give
me the comfort of knowing that I leave her in the hands of a husband
upon whom I can confidently rely."

But at this point Zillah's self-control gave way. She broke down
utterly, and, bowing her head in her hands on the desk, burst forth
into a passion of sobs.

The poor child could surely not be blamed. Her nature was impassioned
and undisciplined; from her birth every whim had been humored, and
her wildest fancies indulged to the utmost; and now suddenly upon
this petted idol, who had been always guarded so carefully from the
slightest disappointment, there descended the storm-cloud of sorrow,
and that too not gradually, but almost in one moment. Her love for
her father was a passion; and he was to be taken from her, and she
was to be given into the hands of entire strangers. The apparent
calmness, almost indifference, with which her father made these
arrangements, cut her to the quick. She was too young to know how
much of this eagerness was attributable entirely to disease. He
appeared to her as thinking of only his own wishes, and showing no
consideration whatever for her own crushing grief, and no
appreciation of the strength of her affection for him. The
self-sacrificing father had changed into the most selfish of men, who
had not one thought for her feelings.

"Oh, Zillah!" cried her father, reproachfully, in answer to her last
outburst of grief. She rose and went to his bedside, struggling
violently with her emotion.

"I can not write this, dearest papa," she said, in a tremulous voice;
"I have promised to do just as you wish, and I will keep my word; but
indeed, indeed, I can not write this letter. Will it not do as well
if Hilda writes it?"

"To be sure, to be sure," said the General, who took no notice of her
distress. "Hilda will do it, and then my little girl can come and sit
beside her father."

Hilda was accordingly sent for. She glided noiselessly in and took
her place at the Davenport; while Zillah, sitting by her father,
buried her head in the bed-clothes, his feeble hands the while
playing nervously with the long, straggling