"It has always been a joy to call you mine."
She caught his hand in hers and pressed it to her lips. "Yes, dear, dear
father! and to me to be so called. We loved one another very dearly then,
each was all the other had, and I think our mutual love has never been
less because of the other many tender ties God has given us since."
"I am sure you are right, daughter, but at that time," he added with a
smile, "you were not willing to share your father's love with another; at
least with one other whom you suspected of trying to win it. Do you
remember how you slipped away to your bed without bidding your papa
good-night, and cried yourself to sleep?"
"Yes, foolish child that I was!" she said, with a low musical laugh; "and
how you surprised me the next morning by your knowledge of my fears, and
then set them all at rest, like the dear, kind father that you were and
always have been."
"No, not always," he sighed.
"Yes, papa, always," she said with playful tenderness. "I will insist upon
that; because even when most severe with me, you did what at the time you
deemed your duty, and believed to be for my good.
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