“Then, my daughter,” he said in a low, feeble whisper, “you do not hate and despise your father.” No words could express the deep love of Cornelia’s embrace, and with soothing, tender expressions she sought to quiet him, which succeeded, for he sunk back in her arms with a calm, peaceful smile on his sad, care-worn face. Mr. Payne grew gradually better, dear reader, and during the hours of convalescence, when I was at different times alone with him, he told me the sad scene which had occurred previous to his sending for me to the library. He had been staggering under a load of business difficulties for some time, as Cornelia had suspected, but could not bear to look upon his affairs as they really were. He could not summon strength and courage to come to his wife, and tell her that all the fine fortune her father had left, was gone, that she and her children were penniless. Day after day he struggled on,—difficulties increased, and in a moment of desperation, to relieve himself of a pressing demand, he added the crime of forgery to the load of debt; hoping to relieve himself before he should be discovered. This happened on the day, at the very time of our drive, when Cornelia was praying for strength. He had some days before written to a business firm in a neighboring town for assistance. Upon them he had some, yes, great claims, for ten years before his capital had established them in business; and he anxiously looked for an answer to his demand, in order to relieve himself before any one could discover his weak act. Late in the afternoon he received, instead of the frank, friendly aid he expected, a cold, short refusal. He staggered home. The enormity of his offence increased upon him, and as he reached his home, the consciousness of having added disgrace to poverty, almost set him wild. He went first into the library, which was in the lower part of the house, because, as he said, the sound of music and gayety that came from the drawing-room, maddened him. He had scarcely entered the room when the hall-bell rang, and the servant ushered into the dimly lighted library, a gentleman; and as he heard his name announced, Mr. Payne shuddered,—it was the very name he had used unlawfully, a few hours before. It was a young merchant of great property, which he had inherited from his father.