ures, who honestly left their hearts
all helpless in your hands."

"Peace, peace," said the old man, standing upright, and speaking with an
effort. "I have not trifled with you. I did hope that all this might
pass off as such love-dreams usually do; but, I have promised nothing
which should not have been accomplished, had not a destiny stronger than
my will, or your love, intervened. Lina, you can never be married to my
son!"

Lina looked in his face--it was pale and troubled; his eyes fell beneath
the intensity of her gaze--his proud shoulders stooped--he did not seem
so tall as he was, by some inches. The deathly white of her face, the
violet lips parted and speechless, the wild agony of those eyes, made
him tremble from head to foot.

"Why? oh, why!" at last broke from her lips.

"Because," said the old man, drawing himself up, and speaking with a
hoarse effort; "because, God forgive me, you are my own daughter!"

She was looking in his face. A sob broke upon her pale lips--the
strength left her limbs--and she fell down before him, shrouding her
agony with both hands.

CHAPTER XXIX.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

General Harrington had no power to comfort the poor creature at his
feet. More deeply moved than he had been for years, the strangeness of
his own feelings paralyzed his action. But the hand to which Lina clung
grew cold in her grasp, and over his face stole an expression of
sadness, the more touching because so foreign to its usual apathy.

"Father--oh, my heart breaks with the word--are you indeed my father?"
cried Lina, lifting her pale face upward and sweeping her hair back with
a desperate motion of the hand.

"Poor child--poor child!" muttered the old man compassionately.

"What can I do? what shall I do? It will kill me! It will kill us both.
Oh, Ralph, Ralph, if I had but died yesterday!" cried the poor girl,
attempting to rise, but falling back again with a fresh burst of grief.

The old man stood gazing to harden his heart--striving to compose the
unusual tremor of his nerves, but all in vain. Sorrow, regret, and
something almost like remorse smote him to the soul, for he had once
been a man of strong passions, and the ice of his selfishness again
broken up, the turbid waters rose and swelled in his bosom, with a power
that all the force of habit could not resist. He bent down and lifted
the girl from his feet, trembling slightly, and with a touch of pity in
his voice.

"It is usel