“Two weeks had passed since Dannie left and I had had three letters from him, all of which breathed of his love and devotion to me and bade me be cheerful, that the time would soon pass and we would be reunited. No word had been received from Mr. Leighton yet, and I was just wondering what had become of him when the bell rang. When I was called down to the parlor whom should I meet but the kind gentleman who gave me the ring, Mr. Price. “‘I am ever so glad to see you,’ said I; but I don’t believe my tones half expressed my feelings, for I was so lonely there, all alone with that poor girl, with only the servants for companions. Our cottage was built in the center of a large plot of ground, and there were no houses very near us. Mr. Leighton told Dan that he had built the house that way purposely, so Lita’s ravings would not disturb the neighbors. “‘How in the world did you happen to come here, Mr. Price?’ said I. “‘Well, you see—I—I am Lita’s father.’ “‘Why, what do you mean? Lita’s father’s name is Mr. Leighton.’ “‘Yes, I know; but I can explain it all to you in a few moments. It is such a terrible thing, I could not endure to have it generally known that my daughter was hopelessly insane, so when I arranged to have her brought here I decided it was best to have her known as Lita Leighton.’ “‘Oh, yes,’ said I, ‘it must be very terrible to have such a misfortune befall a member of one’s family; but you surely couldn’t call it a disgrace.’ “‘Well, perhaps not; but, you know, it would injure my business if it were known. But what are you doing here?’ he said. “‘Why, I am Dannie’s wife.’ “He seemed to be greatly surprised, and asked me why I did not tell him long before. I told him that I could not occupy the position which I held when he first met me if it had become known that I was married. I followed on with my whole life’s story, and he shed tears at my recital of woes and my father’s unkind treatment. “‘How I should have cherished such a beautiful daughter,’ said he, and came over to my chair, bent over and kissed me. ‘Won’t you be a daughter to me in place of my poor demented Lita?’ “My heart went out to him then and there, and I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. “By and by we went in to see Lita. At the sight of her father and me she ran into the furthest corner and no amount of coaxing could induce her to come out. Finally he asked me to leave him alone with her. Just as I was leaving I saw him give her her medicine. “‘Oh,’ I exclaimed, ‘it is not time to give her that yet.’ “‘It is harmless enough,’ he said, closing the door. “He remained in her room an hour or more and left the house soon after. At parting he said: ‘I shall come out often now, because I have two daughters instead of one to visit.’ “That night Lita was very violent. She shrieked and moaned most pitifully. My heart ached for her, but I did not dare to go to her while she was in such a state.