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She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. "Mercy!" screamed Mrs. The rest was easy. ” She saw him there the next week at the same time. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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