"Tyranny, uncle!" I cried, as I laid my cheek to his hand, which was very
cold. "You could not make me think you a tyrant!"

"I should not like you to think me one, darling! Still less would I like
to deserve it, whether you thought me one or not! But I could not be a
tyrant to you if I would. You may defy me when you please."

"That would be to poison my own soul!" I answered.

"You must understand," he continued, "that I have no authority over you.
If you were going to marry Mr. Day to-morrow, I should have no right to
interfere. I am but a make-shift father to you, not a legal guardian."

"Don't cast me off, uncle!" I cried. "You _know_ I belong to you as much
as if you were my very own father! I am sure my father will say so when
we see him. He will never come between you and me."

He gave a great sigh, and his face grew so intense that I felt as if I
had no right to look on it.

"It is one of the deepest hopes of my existence," he said, "to give you
back to him the best of daughters. Be good, my darling, be good, even if
you die of sorrow because of it."

The intensity had faded to a deep sadness, and there came a silence.

"Would you like me to go now, uncle?" I asked.

"I wish I could see Mr. Day at once," he returned, "but I am so far from