heavily. Ephraim observed with alarm what a terrible change had come over his father's features during the last few seconds: his face had become ashen white, his eyes had lost their lustre, he seemed to have aged ten years.
The door opened, and Viola entered.
"Viola!" cried Ephraim, "here is our—"
"Welcome!" said the girl, in a low voice, as she approached a few steps nearer. She extended her hand towards him, but her eyes were cast down. She stood still for a moment, then, with a hurried movement, turned away.
"Gudule!" cried Ascher, horror-stricken, as he fell back almost senseless in his chair.
Was it the glamour of her maiden beauty that had so overpowered this unhappy father? Or was it the extraordinary resemblance she bore to the woman who had so loved him, and whose heart he had broken? The utterance of her name, the terror that accompanied the exclamation, denoted the effect which the girl's sudden appearance had produced upon that sadly unhinged mind.
"Viola!" Ephraim cried, in a sorrow-stricken voice, "why don't you come here?"
"I can't, Ephraim, I can't . . ." she moaned, as, with halting steps, she walked towards the door.
"Come, speak to him, do," Ephraim entreated, taking her hand in his.
