grandeur of thy soul unmans me completely!"

She saw she had conquered. The light of courage was rekindled again in
her father's eye, and his lofty brow was lifted once more under the
sentiment of dignity and self-devotion that struggled for life in his
suffering heart. Lenora looked at him with a heavenly smile, and
exclaimed, rapturously,

"Up! up! father; come to my arms; away with grief! United in each
other's love, fate itself is powerless in our presence!"

Father and daughter sprang into each other's arms, and for a long while
remained speechless, wrapped in a tender embrace; then, seating
themselves with their hands interlocked, they were silent and absorbed,
as if the world and its misery were altogether forgotten.

"A new life--a new and refreshing current of blood--seems to have been
suddenly poured into my veins," said Monsieur De Vlierbeck. "Alas,
Lenora, what a sinner I have been! how wrong I was not to divulge all!
But you must pardon me, beloved child; you must pardon me. It was the
fear of afflicting you--the hope of finding some means of rescue, of
escape--that sealed my lips. I did not know you, my daughter; I did not
know the inestimable treasure that God in his mercy had lavished on me!
But _now_ you shall know all; I will no longer hide the secret of my
conduct and my grief. The fatal hour has come; the blow I desired to
ward off is about to fall and cannot be turned aside! Are you prepared,
dear child, to hear your father's story?"

Lenora, who was delighted to behold the calm and radiant smile that
illuminated the face of her heart-broken parent, answered him instantly,
in caressing tones,--

"Pour all your woes into my heart, dear father, and conceal nothing. The
part I have to perform must be based on complete knowledge of every
thing; and you will feel how much your confidence relieves your burdened
soul."

"Take, then, your share of suffering, daughter," replied De Vlierbeck,
"and help me to bear my cross! I will disguise nothing. What I am about
to disclose is indeed lamentable; yet do not tremble and give way at the
recital, for, if any thing should move you, it must be the story of a
father's torture. You will learn now, my child, why Monsieur Denecker
has had the hardihood to behave toward us as he has done."

He dropped her hand, but, without averting his eager gaze from her
anxious eyes, continued:--

"You were very young, Lenora, but gentle and loving as at present, and
you