submits to and obeys him. From all parts of the
world come letters to be answered, and, when at last, late in the
evening, he remembers he is something besides the king on 'Change, the
man of speculation, he is so tired and exhausted, that he has only a
few dull words for his child, who lives solitary in the midst of all
this wealth, and curses the millions which make her poor."

She had spoken with increasing excitement and bitterness. Even her
love had for a moment been eclipsed by the feeling of an injured
daughter, whose grief she now for the first time disclosed to her
lover.

As she finished speaking, she laid her arm on Feodor's shoulder, and
clung still more closely to him, as if to find in his heart protection
and shelter against all pain and every grief. Like a poor, broken
flower she laid herself on his breast, and Feodor gazed at her
with pride and pity. At this moment he wished to try her heart, and
discover whether he alone was master of it. For that purpose had he
come; for this had he risked this meeting. In this very hour should
she follow him and yield herself to him in love and submission. His
long separation from her, his wild soldier's life had crushed out
the last blossoms of tender and chaste affection in his heart, and
he ridiculed himself for his pure, adoring, timid love. Distrust had
resumed power over him, and doubt, like a mildew, had spread itself
over his last ideal. Elise was to him only a woman like the rest. She
was his property, and as such he wished to do with her as he chose.

But yet there was something in her pure, loving being which mastered
him against his will, and, as it were, changed his determination.
In her presence, looking into her clear pure eye, he forgot his dark
designs and his dreary doubts, and Elise became again the angel of
innocence and purity, the saint to whom he prayed, and whose tender
looks shed forgiveness on him.

This young girl, resting so calmly and confidingly on his breast, and
looking at him so innocently and purely, moved him, and made him blush
for himself and his wild, bold desires. Silent and reflecting he sat
at her side, but she could read in his looks, in his smile, that he
loved her. What further need had she of words?

She raised her head from his breast, and looked at him for a long
time, and her countenance assumed a bright, happy expression.

"Oh," said she, "do I call myself poor when I have you? I am no longer
poor since I have k