For a moment the Dean
stared hard at her. Then with a burst of recognition he uttered
aghast the one word "Herminia!"
"Father," Herminia answered, in a tremulous voice, "I have fought a
good fight; I have pressed toward the mark for the prize of a high
calling. And when I heard you preach, I felt just this once, let
come what come might, I must step forth to tell you so."
The Dean gazed at her with melting eyes. Love and pity beamed
strong in them. "Have you come to repent, my child?" he asked,
with solemn insistence.
"Father," Herminia made answer, lingering lovingly on the word, "I
have nothing to repent of. I have striven hard to do well, and
have earned scant praise for it. But I come to ask to-day for one
grasp of your hand, one word of your blessing. Father, father,
kiss me!"
The old man drew himself up to his full height, with his silvery
hair round his face. Tears started to his eyes; his voice
faltered. But he repressed himself sternly. "No, no, my child,"
he answered. "My poor old heart bleeds for you. But not till you
come with full proofs of penitence in your hands can I ever receive
you.
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