Seeing my reverie broken, he strode noiselessly across the room and
stood beside me at the fire. The thought crossed my mind that there
was something unusual in his manner and expression to-night. He passed
his hand wearily over his brow and eyes, and as if in helpless
obedience to some uncontrollable impulse he leaned forward and touched
his firm dry lips to my cheek.
I started, and why should'nt I? It was the first time my father had
ever kissed me, at least so long as I could remember. I felt a deep
blush creeping up to my very ears; in fact I was stupidly agitated,
and he saw it. With a tenderness such as his voice had not known for
many a year he said:
"Amey, you are a living, breathing vision of my happy past, to-night.
I never saw such a likeness before." His words sank into a whisper as
my step-mother's footfall sounded on the stairs outside. He heard it,
and turning away left the room abruptly. I drank my cup of tea and
prepared to leave as one moving about in a dream. This was one of the
strangest experiences I had ever had; some secret spring seemed to
have been magically touched within me, and all the pent-up love and
devotion of a life-time now flowed freely through my veins. I was
attracted most powerfully towards the cold, distant man whom I had
dreaded all along, and whom I could have hated ardently had it not
been a sin against nature.
His words, though vague, had a clear and holy meaning for me.
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