father given to your request?"—"One that surprises me as much as it hurts me," he replied. "He refuses his consent to our marriage, not merely because you are portionless, but because you are the daughter of a man he hates; one whose insolence obliged him to complain against him, and to have dismissed from the army."—"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed; "is it possible Count Wolfran was that destroyer of my father's happiness! Oh! my dear father, why, why did you not name your cruel enemy to me!" "You mistake the matter," said my husband, very coolly: "It appears that the insolence of Mr. Hautweitzer drew upon himself the just indignation of Count Wolfran."
The tone in which he pronounced these words, had more in it than the words themselves: It pierced my heart, and I burst into tears. He seemed affected—besought me not to be uneasy; time might do much for us.—The mutual hatred between our fathers was certainly an unlucky business; but as he found that the Count his father would
