SARA.

Give it me, honest Waitwell! But no! I will not take it before you tell
me what it contains.

WAITWELL.

What can it contain? Love and forgiveness.

SARA.

Love? Forgiveness?

WAITWELL.

And perhaps a real regret, that he used the rights of a father's power
against a child, who should only have the privileges of a father's
kindness.

SARA.

Then keep your cruel letter.

WAITWELL.

Cruel? Have no fear. Full liberty is granted you over your heart and
hand.

SARA.

And it is just this which I fear. To grieve a father such as he, this I
have had the courage to do. But to see him forced by this very grief-by
his love which I have forfeited, to look with leniency on all the wrong
into which an unfortunate passion has led me; this, Waitwell, I could
not bear. If his letter contained all the hard and angry words which an
exasperated father can utter in such a case, I should read it--with a
shudder it is true--but still I should be able to read it. I should be
able to produce a shadow of defence against his wrath, to make him by
this defence if possible more angry still. My consolation then would be
this-that melancholy grief could have no place with violent wrath and
that the latter would transform itself finally into bitter contempt.
And we grieve no more for one whom we despise. My father would have
grown calm again, and I would not have to reproach myself with having
made him unhappy for ever.

WAITWELL.

Alas, Miss! You will have to reproach yourself still less for this if
you now accept his love again, which wishes only to forget everything.

SARA.

You are mistaken, Waitwell! His yearning for me misleads him, perhaps,
to give his consent to everything. But no sooner would this desire be
appeased a little, than he would feel ashamed before himself of his
weakness. Sullen anger would take possession of him, and he would never
be able to look at me without silently accusing me of all that I had
dared to exact from him. Yes, if it were in my power to spare him his
bitterest grief, when on my account he is laying the greatest restraint
upon himself; if at a moment when he would grant me everything I could
sacrifice all to him; then