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Conjuror's House - A Romance of the Free Forest by Stewart Edward White
page 118 of 154 (76%)

"Father!" cried Virginia, faintly, her lips going pale.

"Don't speak to me! Don't look at me! Get out of here! Get out of the
place! I won't have you here another day--another hour! By--"

The girl hesitated for a moment, then ran to him, sinking on her
knees, and clasping his hand.

"Father," she pleaded, "you are not yourself. This has been very
trying to you. To-morrow you will be sorry. But then it will be too
late. Think, while there is yet time. He has not committed a crime.
You yourself told me he was a man of intelligence and daring--a
gentleman; and surely, though he has been hasty, he has acted with a
brave spirit through it all. See, he will promise you to go away
quietly, to say nothing of all this, never to come into this country
again without your permission. He will do this if I ask him, for he
loves me. Look at me, father. Are you going to treat your little girl
so--your Virginia? You have never refused me anything before. And this
is the greatest thing in all my life." She held his hand to her cheek
and stroked it, murmuring little feminine, caressing phrases, secure
in her power of witchery, which had never failed her before. The sound
of her own voice reassured her, the quietude of the man she pleaded
with. A lifetime of petting, of indulgence, threw its soothing
influence over her perturbation, convincing her that somehow all this
storm and stress must be phantasmagoric--a dream from which she was
even now awakening into a clearer day of happiness. "For you love me,
father," she concluded, and looked up daintily, with a pathetic,
coquettish tilt of her fair head, to peer into his face.

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