She was so happy, that in her selfishness she did not perceived his troubled and care-worn looks.  “Oh” said she, kissing his hand, “I am so happy at last to find you alone at home.  Several times have I sought you here.”

“With letters for me?” asked he, hurriedly, for he had not observed Elise’s excited countenance.  Both were so occupied with their own thoughts and feelings, that they took note of nothing else.  “Have not letters arrived?” asked he once more.

“No letters have arrived,” said she, smiling joyously, “but happiness has come.”

“De Neufville is here, then!” cried Gotzkowsky, anxiously, hurrying toward the door.

“What has De Neufville to do with it?” asked Elise, with surprise holding him back.

Gotzkowsky stared for a moment, terrified at her bright face, and then a sad smile stole across his own.  “Poor fool that I am!” he muttered; “I complain of the egotism of men, while I am selfish enough to think only of myself.”  He drew Elise toward him, and looking at her with infinite tenderness, said, “Well, my child, speak:  what happiness has arrived?”

“Look at me,” said she, playfully; “can you read nothing in my looks?”

Sadly he looked down deep into her large bright eyes.  “Oh, your eyes shine as bright as two stars of hope, the last that are left me!”

Elise threw both her arms around his neck, and kissed him, then drew him with gentle force toward the ottoman, and, as she forced him down on the cushions, she took her own seat, smiling, on the stool at his feet.  “How often, my father, have you sat here and cared for me!  Ah!  I know well how much sorrow I have caused you in these last four sad years, I could not command my heart to forget.  You knew this, and yet you have been considerate and gentle as a mother, and kind as the best of fathers.  You were never angry with me on account of my grief; you knew of it, and yet you allowed me to weep.”  She took his hand in hers, and for a moment covered her hot, burning face with it, then looked cheerfully up in his face.  “See,” she said, “I do not shed any more tears, or, if I do, they are tears of joy.  My father, I come to ask your blessing.  Feodor is again here; he has come to ask me of you for his wife.  Oh, forgive him, and grant your blessing to a love which till now has been the anguish of my life, but which hereafter will be its chief happiness!”

Blushing and with maiden modesty she nestled in her father’s breast.  Gotzkowsky felt himself paralyzed with terror.  He pressed his child’s head warmly to his breast, saying to himself, “And this, too, my God! you try me sorely.  This is the greatest sacrifice you have demanded of me yet; but my pride is gone.  This offering, too, will I make.”

“Well, my father, you do not answer?” asked Elise, still leaning on his breast.  “All is right, is it not? and you will give us your fatherly blessing, and forgive Feodor the errors of former years, and receive him as a son?”