"Shall I get you some wine, Dad?" she asked presently in a quiet
voice.

"No!" he replied, curtly--"Priscilla can get it."

"Then good-night!"

Still standing erect he turned his head and looked at her.

"Are you going?" he said. "Without your usual kiss?--your usual
tenderness? Why should you change to me? Your own father--if he
was your father--deserted you,--and I have been, a father to you
in his place, wronging my own honourable name for your sake; am I
to blame for this? Be reasonable! The laws of man are one thing
and the laws of God are another,--and we have to make the best we
can of ourselves between the two. There's many a piece of wicked
injustice in the world, but nothing more wicked than to set shame
or blame on a child that's born without permit of law or blessing
of priest. For it's not the child's fault,--it's brought into the
world without its own consent,--and yet the world fastens a slur
upon it! That's downright brutal and senseless!--for if there is
any blame attached to the matter it should be fastened on the
parents, and not on the child. And that's what I thought when you
were left on my hands--I took the blame of you on myself, and I
was careful that you should be treated with every kindness and
respect--mind you that! Respect! There's not a man on the place
that doesn't doff his cap to you; and you've been as my own
daughter always. You can't deny it! And more than that"--here his
strong voice faltered--"I've loved you!--yes-I've loved you,