"Merciful Heaven! what a lie, to deprive me of my father's love, and
send me from my home, among unknown friends, so far away! I cannot,
cannot go; I cannot leave my father, even though it kill me to
remain," gasped the young girl, in tears and bitterness of heart, as
she sank helpless and hopeless upon the snowy bed that stood, a
monster ghost, in the moonlit chamber. For hours she lay in silence
and in sorrow, and when sleep came at length, the spoken words of
her slumber but revealed the burden of her heavy heart in the
oft-repeated words, "I cannot, cannot, will not go."






CHAPTER XX.





A WEEK passed. No word concerning the projected journey had been
spoken by her father, and the young girl was beginning to hope that
it might have been only the burden of an idle conversation, not a
project really determined upon by either parent. But early one
morning, as Mr. Mordecai caught the sound of music floating out from
the drawing-room-such tender music-he laid aside the paper he was
reading, and slipped softly toward the room whence came the sounds.
This sudden and unusual manifestation of musical skill, this morning
outburst of melody, astonished the father, and his approach to the