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"This is nice, papa!" I said, as the cushions of one of them

received me

"It is not quite the Mount of Olives," said papa

"No indeed!" I answered; and my eyes filled The bustle of the

fashionable world was all aroundthe very ground where I stood,

the air of our little social world was not as on Lebanon sweet

and pure When would it be again? Papa sat thinking in his

easy-chair

"How do you like Paris, my child?"

"Papa, it does notas I aether"

"Your English friend has followed you from Florence"

"Yes, papa At least he is here"

"And your German friend"

"He is here, papa"

There was a silence I wondered what papa was thinking of, but

I did not speak, for I saas thinking

"You have never heard from your American friend?"

"No, papa"

"Daisy," said papa, tenderly, and looking at ?"

"Am I, papa?"

"I think you are You can bear the truth, cannot you?"

"I hope I can, -any truth that you have to tell ht of terrible evil chilled my heart for a moment,