Page:The Family Legend.pdf/109

Rh

My father!

That voice!—O God!—Unveil—unveil, for mercy! (Tearing off the mantle that conceals her.) My child! my Helen! (Clasping her to his heart, and holding her there for some time, unable to speak.) My child! my dearest child!—my soul! my pride! Deserted!—houseless!—com'st thou to me thus? Here is thy house—thy home: this aged bosom Thy shelter is, which thou shalt quit no more. My child! my child! Houseless! deserted—'neath the cope of heaven Breathes there a wretch who could desert thee?—Speak, If he hath so abused his precious trust, If he—it makes me tear these hoary locks To think what I have done!—Oh thoughtless father! Thoughtless and selfish too!