He waited a moment, then said:  “Once more I ask you, Elsie, will you obey me?”

“Oh, papa, always, if—­”

“Hush!” he said sternly; “you know that will not do;” and setting her down, he rose to go.

But she clung to him with desperate energy.  “Oh, papa,” she sobbed, “when will you come back?”

“That depends upon you, Elsie,” he said.  “Whenever my little daughter writes to me the words I have so vainly endeavored to induce her to speak, that very day, if possible, I will start for home.”

He laid his hand on the handle of the door as he spoke.

But clinging to him, and looking up beseechingly into his face, she pleaded, in piteous tones, amid her bitter sobs and tears, “Papa, dear, dear papa, kiss me once before you go; just once, papa; perhaps you may never come back—­perhaps I may die.  Oh, papa, papa! will you go away without kissing me?—­me, your own little daughter, that you used to love so dearly?  Oh, papa, my heart will break!”

His own eyes filled with tears, and he stooped as if to give her the coveted caress, but hastily drawing back again, said with much of his accustomed sternness—­

“No, Elsie, I cannot break my word; and if you are determined to break your own heart and mine by your stubbornness, on your own head be the consequences,”

And putting her forcibly aside, he opened the door and went out, while, with a cry of despair, she sank half-fainting upon the floor.

She was roused ere long by the sound of a carriage driving up to the door, and the thought flashed upon her, “He is not gone yet, and I may see him once more;” and springing to her feet, she ran downstairs, to find the rest of the family in the hall, taking leave of her father.

He was just stooping to give Enna a farewell kiss, as his little daughter came up.  He did not seem to notice her, but was turning away, when Enna said, “Here is Elsie; aren’t you going to kiss her before you go?”

He turned round again, to see those soft, hazel eyes, with their mournful, pleading gaze, fixed upon his face.  He never forgot that look; it haunted him all his life.

He stood for an instant looking down upon her, while that mute, appealing glance still met his, and she ventured to take his hand in both of hers and press it to her lips.

But he turned resolutely away, saying, in his calm, cold tone, “No!  Elsie is a stubborn, disobedient child.  I have no caress for her.”

A moan of heart-breaking anguish burst from Elsie’s pale and trembling lips; and covering her face with her hands, she sank down upon the door-step, vainly struggling to suppress the bitter, choking sobs that shook her whole frame.

But her father was already in the carriage, and hearing it begin to move, she hastily dashed away her tears, and strained her eyes to catch the last glimpse of it, as it whirled away down the avenue.