dower; and, no doubt, she will marry brilliant!y." Thus, occupied with pleasant prospects for the future, instead of gloomy reminiscences of the past, Lord Avonleigh entered the house.
Francesca was alone, and at once her ear detected a strange step in the passage. Her heart died within her; in vain she endeavoured to control her emotion;—the objects grew indistinct around her; and when Lord Avonleigh approached and took her hand, she sank kneeling at his feet, and burst into tears.
People who have not strong feelings themselves dislike their display in others. Wanting in that sympathy which intuitively teaches how to console, agitation always embarrasses them; they are puzzled, and know not what to say, and feel that they are in an awkward and disagreeable position.
Lord Avonleigh raised the agitated girl, and, leading her to a seat, took his place beside her.
"Do not weep, my sweet child!" said he: "surely our meeting is not a misfortune?"
At the word "child," Francesca raised her eyes to his face, and smiled through her tears—so delightful to her unaccustomed ear were the expressions of affection. "My dearest father!" exclaimed she; and at that moment what a
