“I do not doubt you, my own dear papa. How could I? Are we not all in all to each other? Let me work for you--let me earn money for you! I should be the happiest of the happy if your little comforts were purchased by my exertions. But don’t ask me again for Uncle Blunden’s bequest; I have promised Aunt Margaret that I will not touch it, and you would despise your daughter if she broke her word.” Mr. Heriton, quivering with passion, put her forcibly from him. “I believe, Miss Heriton, that Mrs. Blunden has on more than one occasion expressed a wish that you should take up your residence with her. I withdraw my opposition to her request; you are perfectly at liberty to go whenever you please. You have forfeited my affection by your selfish and deceitful conduct; you have chosen to be guided by an illiberal woman, who has no sisterly affection for me. Go to her, and forget that you have a father, as I shall try to forget that I have ever had a child!” “Papa, you cannot mean this!” she faltered. “You know that I would not leave you for Aunt Margaret or any one else.” With freezing politeness he walked to the door and opened it for her. “This discussion is very painful to me, Miss Heriton; I must beg that you will not prolong it. As you may depart before I rise in the morning, I will say my adieus now.” Florence tried to answer him, but she had been feeling poorly all day with a feverish cold; and, thoroughly upset by the scene she had gone through, she dropped into a chair, half fainting. Greatly alarmed by her pale face and closed eyes, her father rang the bell and hurried to support her. “Look up, my darling--speak to me! Great heavens! Have I killed her--have I killed her?” Florence made an effort to answer him, but was too ill to do more than murmur an affectionate “Dear--dear papa!” And his alarm increasing, he called loudly for assistance. The mistress of the house, who cherished a great liking for “poor, pretty Miss Heriton,” and disliked her consequential father, came bustling in and carried her off to bed, assiduously nursing her during the days that she lay in the alternate chills and delirium of a low fever. Mr. Heriton was extremely attentive during this time, and seemed anxious to atone for the past, fussily hovering about his daughter’s bed, and entreating her to tell him if there was any delicacy she could fancy--a pineapple, for instance, or peaches, or guava jelly--till poor Florence, who knew that all these things were beyond his reach, grew worried and unhappy at his thoughtless way of talking.